The Vicodin Job
by peacefulsands
Summary: When Eliot refuses a job and collapses unexpectedly, Nathan is there for him as he recovers. Once he's back on his feet, Nathan is determined to find out exactly what went wrong and how Eliot became so very ill without anyone noticing.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: The Vicodin Job **  
**Author: indigominstrels**  
**Artists: monica_catch22 (go to Livejournal for art post - can be accessed from either the author or the artist's livejournal)**

**Beta: violetknights**

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Disclaimer : Leverage and its characters are not mine and I mean no offence with this story.

**Characters/Pairings:** Nathan/Eliot  
**Rating:** M  
**Genre:** angst  
**Warnings/spoilers:** pharmeceutical drug use/addiction, torture, fictional war crimes  
**Word Count:** overall : approx. 64,200

**Summary:** _When Eliot refuses to take on a job and then collapses unexpectedly, Nathan is there for him as he recovers. Once he's back on his feet again, Nathan is determined to find out exactly what went wrong and how Eliot became so very ill without anyone noticing but first he has to help Eliot fix his relationship with the rest of the team._

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_**Chapter 1**_

Nathan sat silently in the corner watching his team, watching the individuals react to the situation before them. They were quieter now, quieter than when it had all gone to hell back in the office. They'd been in the conference room, Hardison had been holding forth, filling them in on the details of their latest job and Eliot had objected.

That should have been enough, enough to have had Nathan Ford backing him up. Fuck! It should have been enough to have warning bells ringing in everyone's ears but no, no they tried to shout Eliot down and stick with Hardison's original plan. The plan that had relied on Eliot's brute strength. Nathan closed his eyes and took a deep breath trying to control the rage that seethed inside, trying to keep himself calm. Hindsight was a terrible thing.

If only they'd paid more attention at least . . . at least the final words before this would not have been in anger, would not have left Eliot feeling like _he_ wasn't worth shit. Eliot had tried to tell them and they'd ignored him. Nathan had seen the look of defeat in his eyes, watched as he'd stood, said calmly, "Think again, I'm not doing it," and begun to walk towards the door.

He hadn't made it. Halfway between his seat and the door Eliot had collapsed and now here they are sitting in a private room in a hospital, waiting for someone to tell them what's happening and what all the machinery attached to Eliot is and what the fuck they are going to do to fix it. But what Nathan really wants to ask is how the hell is he going to be able to fix the rift between Eliot and the rest of the team? And even more importantly between Eliot and himself?

He doesn't know how to even start apologizing for not noticing that something was _really_ wrong, because there's no way that Eliot '_just'_ collapsed without warning…

The door opened and a doctor stepped in, "Mr. Ford? Could I speak to you for a moment outside, please?" Nathan stood and started to follow the doctor before he felt the eyes of Parker, Sophie and Hardison on him. He shrugged. He wondered for a moment what they expected him to say, but then just turned back and followed the doctor without a word. He found himself led down to a small office where it was quiet, isolated. He sat on the chair the doctor offered him without saying a thing, dreading instead what he was about to hear.

"Mr. Ford. I have a problem," the doctor began. Nathan's eyes were piercing, he'd been in this situation before with Sam and he didn't know whether to be afraid that this was as terrifying as it had been when the doctors were talking about Sam. He lifted his eyes slowly to watch waiting for the words that would follow, that Eliot's condition was terminal and nothing could be done to save him. "My problem is this, Mr Spencer is in a very vulnerable position and some medical decisions need to be made. There is some irregularity to the information I have available about him. His insurance is in order to cover treatment at this stage. . ." Nathan expelled a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding in relief that the insurance wasn't the problem this time. "Mr Ford, we need to make some decisions with regard to the course of action, but we can find no reference to next of kin, no medical history that would match with the gentleman in there, given the quantity of scars and signs of previous injury there should be something available, something more on record. So far, you have been our source of information, but . . ."

"Many of the injuries were obtained in service overseas," Nathan replied quickly to forestall the line of inquiry. It wasn't a lie as such; plenty of Eliot's injuries were obtained overseas in warlord torture chambers. "He would not have had access to immediate or even conventional medical care for many of them." The thought went through his mind that _his_ Eliot deserved better than this.

"I need to contact his next of kin, Mr Ford," the doctor reminded him.

"He has no biological family left. _I_ am his family." It was the truth, but clearly not what the Doctor wanted to hear. "If you need a family member to make a decision on his behalf, I will do that for you."

"Mr. Ford . . ."

"No, you listen to me. There is no one else, has not been anyone else for a long, long time. I care for him, I will take on these decisions he needs someone to make. I am not just his employer, we are . . . partners; we are together." No secret was worth this, if Nathan had to shout it from the rooftops to save Eliot then he would, everyone who wanted to judge could be damned. "When he recovers, when he has healed, if he objects then both you and he can sue _me_ for my actions, but right now, someone has to make the decision to keep him alive. You tell _me_ what you need to know, you tell _me_ what is happening to him. You tell _me_ what you are going to do to save him for me. He can't die, do you understand that?" Nathan snapped his lips shut, trapping the rest of his words inside, the begging that wanted out. He lost Sam and he was facing the prospect of losing Eliot and he couldn't do it.

Not Eliot. He'd have been dead time and time again, if it weren't for Eliot. Hell, he'd be the walking dead with more alcohol than blood in his system, if it weren't for Eliot. He owed Eliot so much and Eliot deserved better.

"Tell me exactly what happened, Mr Ford, exactly what you know about Eliot's condition today."

"We were in a conference; the discussion was slightly heated about certain aspects of the business matter. Eliot stood up to take a break from the discussion; he was half way across the room when he suddenly collapsed. He had said nothing before that to indicate that he felt in any way unwell." _Or not in so many words_, thought Nathan, as if saying they were wrong about what they were expecting him to be able to do shouldn't have been enough.

"He's carrying a number of injuries, more recent injuries. I'm assuming he isn't still serving overseas."

"No, he's involved in security in our company. At times, it is a job that has required a physical response from him."

"I don't know what your company does, Mr Ford, but I would suggest that you need to be looking for a new security detail. Eliot is not going to be up to any 'security' for quite some time . . . if ever."

"I don't give a damn about the work, _he_ is what matters. What is . . .?" Nathan felt himself choking on the words. "What's wrong with him?"

"At the simplest level, he's here now because he's taken an overdose." Nathan gasped in surprise. Of everything he'd thought could be wrong, that hadn't even been a consideration. The doctor continued to speak, "Now, you need to understand what we're talking about here. I'm not talking a simple overdose, as if there ever was such a thing, but let's say my current thought is that this is not deliberate. My suspicion, and with Eliot unconscious I can't directly talk this out with him obviously, although maybe you could enlighten me. Anyway, my suspicion is that he has been in pain, considerable pain for some time and that he has been taking painkillers to try and deal with it. Over time he has increased and increased the dosage that he has been taking, trying to cope. There are a number of difficulties associated with medicating for pain relief, one of which is that the body can develop a tolerance for the drugs, which then seem to necessitate in higher doses to achieve the same effect, however, it will carry the risk of overdose."

"So you're not suggesting he's tried to commit suicide?"

"No, Mr Ford, I'm not suggesting that at all. I think this is an accident in that sense, however, it clearly indicates some very serious issues that presuming he survives and regains consciousness, he will need to deal with. Firstly the injuries and pain he's in will need to be dealt with in order to minimize their effects. I would like to take x-rays, possibly an MRI to establish exactly what problems there are and what we can do to help. Secondly we're going to have to break what amounts to an addiction to the painkillers he's been taking. I suspect they've become a coping mechanism. We can help with the process of withdrawal, even with the process of managing afterwards but he is going to need more than that, he's going to need to commit to rehabilitation. He is also going to be in need of friends who are going to support him and help him, not people who may inadvertently or otherwise pressure him into situations that would have him reverting back to drug usage. It may be that he needs to change his career path."

"What needs to happen for him to be well. . . what do you need to know? How do we fix this?"

The doctor sighed, "Mr Ford, it isn't a matter of just fixing it. The first thing that needs to happen is that Eliot will need to actually accept that there _is_ a problem and that he wants to fix it."

"He knows," Nathan said sadly. "I think he knows, I think he's been trying to tell me something was wrong, I just didn't hear him right."

"Well, if that's the case it will make what comes next a fraction easier on you both. I can give you the name of some rehabilitation programs that might be of interest. I should warn you though, Mr. Ford, you both have a difficult time ahead of you. Getting free of an addiction is a difficult process, and believe me, not just for Eliot."

"I know, believe me, I know. Thank you," Nathan nodded, accepting the handful of offered leaflets, promptly folding them and putting them in his pocket to read later, when he was alone with Eliot.

This wasn't Eliot's fault, this wasn't like when he himself had tried to drown himself in liquor and he wondered if he could keep it away from the others. Eliot was a private man, as they had grown closer so Nathan had realized how different the real Eliot was from the public persona, how almost _vulnerable_ he was. Eliot wasn't weak, but he was self-contained, self-reliant and even accepting that he was part of a team had been a huge hurdle for the young man. He would take on the burden of protecting the others fervently but he hadn't yet really come to terms with that being a two way process. Even with Nathan, Eliot seemed more at ease when he was cooking and cleaning and generally busy doing something _for_ Nathan, than when they were just relaxing together or when Nathan was cooking for him. At first Nathan had thought it was because Eliot was so good at cooking that he would fret over something not being done just right, but time and persistence had shown that it was merely the having something done for him that he hadn't in some way 'paid for' that was the problem.

"Can you give me any ideas as to what he's been taking and for how long?" the doctor interrupted Nathan's internal debate.

"Ummm, God, I mean I know he takes Vicodin, I've seen him take that. There's always scripts and bottles of it around the apartment but I've never really noticed how often or how much he's taking. I mean, he knows when he's in pain so I figured he knew what he was doing and . . . and they're all properly labelled bottles, or at least they look like they are, like I say I've not paid that much attention to them. You know, he just soldiers on, even when you can see he's in pain, he just keeps on going."

"Has he shown any unusual behavior patterns in recent times?"

"Unusual? Unusual how?"

"Needing more money, taking off on his own unexpectedly, moodiness, vomiting, dizziness? Anything that you wouldn't expect of him?"

Nathan's head dropped forward, his forehead resting on his palms. He let out a deep sigh before saying quietly, "Apart from the money thing, yeah, he's done all of them, but you know, he's used to being independent, to shooting off on his own and dealing with stuff, that's not going to be new in his life. Being moody too, I mean, we've had to make some adjustments, learn to fit round one another, there are certainly plenty of times when I've had to bite my tongue because he's done something I didn't want him to, I'm sure he feels the same about me!"

Nathan rubbed his hands over his face before looking up at the doctor and saying, "How bad is this?"

"Eliot collapsed, he hasn't regained consciousness yet, we are having to assist his breathing and monitor his heart rate because it keeps dropping too low. I'm sorry but in all honesty, right now it couldn't be much worse."

"You can fix this though, right? You can fix this?" The doctor could hear the desperate hope in Nathan Ford's voice and frowned. "I can't lose him; you have to do everything you can."

"We are doing, Mr Ford, but even if we can get him through this, it's not going to be over until he's not taking Vicodin anymore and even then life may be a struggle for him at times. Dealing with addiction, Mr Ford, is never an easy thing."

"Get him awake and strong enough and I'll get him whatever he needs to get off the Vicodin. There's the programs, right? That's what the leaflets are, so we can get him help." Nathan was already standing as if it was something he could get on to straight away.

"Yes, there are programs, _if_ he gets through the next few hours, wakes up and with no further complications. Then all you need is for him to agree to treatment, then, yes, there are programs. We can advise on the ones that would most suit Eliot's needs once we've spoken to him. I want to head back now; there are some things I want to check over on his notes and to see how he's doing."

* * *

Nathan followed the doctor back down to Eliot's room, where the others were still waiting for some indication that Eliot was going to live. "Okay, I'm going to ask you all to step outside for me now. I'd like Eliot to have some peace. It might be as well for you all to go home at this point. Mr Ford, given our conversation, I'd like you to stay if that is possible."

Hardison started to object, but Nathan cut smoothly across him, "The doctor's right. We have to put Eliot's needs first at this point. I'll stay and you know I'll call if there are any changes."

Sophie interjected, "So far, he hasn't even given us a reasonable explanation for this! What does he know? Are you sure . . .?"

"He knows more than we do, Sophie. He knows what Eliot needs." Nathan ignored the narrowing of her eyes and continued before she could start again, "He says that Eliot needs quiet so that's what we do. Like I said, I'll call if there's any change, good or bad. Eliot isn't going to be alone . . . I'll be here."

Nathan was cool, determined. He didn't give the others any chance to object just ushered them out of the room. "I'll be in touch when I know more."

He turned to go back into Eliot's room, forestalling any further discussion by closing the door behind him. He leant back against the door, half his attention on the doctor examining Eliot and half listening for the sounds of his colleagues beyond the door. Finally he heard them move away, and so with a sigh he stepped away from the door, moving across the room to take the seat on the far side to the doctor, taking Eliot's hand in his own.

He kept a firm hold of Eliot's hand, his eyes soft with worry and affection as he looked at the younger man's face, half concealed by an oxygen mask.

"Can I ask you something else?" the doctor disturbed his contemplation again and he looked away from Eliot, up to meet the other man's eyes with a curt nod. "This –" the doctor nodded in the direction of the hand Nathan was holding, "Do your . . . friends know?" Nathan shook his head in response. The doctor sighed clearly considering something before he spoke again, "I thought that might be the case given . . . given how you were all seated. Part of Eliot's problem is the secret he has been keeping, or rather secrets . . . He's been in pain, not told anyone, he's taken Vicodin to control the pain, not told anyone when the prescribed dose wasn't enough, taken more. You said he was suffering from vomiting and dizziness, how do you know?"

"I heard him throwing up."

"You go to him?"

"No," Nathan shrugged, "He's a guy, you know, he's got his pride. Eliot's . . ." Nathan paused trying to think of the right word, "independent. He doesn't like attention."

"Well, he's not going to have that option anymore. He's not going to just be able to throw this off, just make a decision to stop taking these drugs and that'll be it. If he's as _independent_ as you say, you're going to need to break through his barriers and find a way to get him to accept help. Believe me when I tell you that even if he wants to stop this, he can't do it on his own. He needs support. I very much doubt that he will be able to get through this without help and if he continues to take the Vicodin in these quantities . . . his future is looking very bleak, Mr. Ford."

"But it's Eliot. . ." The doctor frowned, until a slight groan and shift of movement drew both their attention back to the man in the bed. Nathan leant forward, focusing his concern into the attention he was now giving to stroking Eliot's hand, at the same time as calling his name softly, "Eliot? That's it, come on, you can wake up now, El. Open your eyes."

Eliot's head tossed restlessly against the pillow, until Nathan lifted his other hand up to stroke the hair back from Eliot's now sweaty brow. "Come on, Eliot, it's time to wake up now. Open your eyes."

Eliot's eyes scrunched tighter closed and he groaned again. The doctor lifted the oxygen mask away and began to coax a response from Eliot as well, his voice gentle and reassuring. Eliot's head tossed again back and forth, finally settling toward the doctor. Nathan felt a sudden surge of jealousy, if Eliot was going to wake up now, he was going to wake up and see him first, not some freaking jackass doctor who thought he knew what it meant to be Eliot.

He began to murmur soft reassurances, an endless stream of nonsense to draw Eliot back to him. He saw the doctor smirk at his reaction before stepping back and heading to the adjoining bathroom. When the doctor returned he was carrying a cool wet cloth, which he handed over to Nathan with the words, "Very gentle, cool his face down. Keep your movements soft and slow. Keep reassuring him, draw him back to you."

The doctor then turned back to the machines monitoring Eliot's vital signs, leaving Nathan to continue his ministrations.

Suddenly, the thrashing stopped and Eliot's eyes snapped open, and Nathan felt his own heart jolt at the fear and pain he saw in Eliot's expression. "El, hey, I'm here, glad you are too. You're awake now." As Eliot's eyes seemed to search the room for some indication of what was happening, Nathan began to explain, "It's okay. You're in hospital now, we're going to help you, we're going to get you all fixed up. It's going to be fine."

Nathan hadn't expected the tears that had welled in Eliot's eyes, the look of distress that had settled on his face or the hoarse choked, "I'm sorry, so sorry," that had slipped from Eliot's lips.

As Nathan instantly tried to reassure him, he'd also not predicted the way in which Eliot had tried to curl on his side, as close to Nathan as he could get, but Nathan had responded instantly, leaning forward and instinctively placing a gentle kiss on Eliot's forehead, one hand gently running across his cheek as the other soothed down his arm, trying to ease Eliot to turn on to his back again, but Eliot's hand clutched at his arm, trying to keep him close, more apologies falling in the quiet of the room.

Nathan stood up, firmly pushing on Eliot's shoulder until he laid back down on the bed, "Lie down, El, lie down. It's gonna be okay. The doc's going to fix you up good to go. Then I'll take you home and it'll all be fine. No more apologies now. It was an accident, not your fault."

The doctor sighed, it wasn't that he wanted Eliot carrying guilt, but the young man needed to know that things had to change, no medic could just fix him up good to go without him committing to change.

"Mr Ford, I need to talk to Eliot _honestly_ now." There was a clear emphasis on the word and Nathan knew what the doctor was saying. Eliot had to face what he'd been doing, had to change if he was going to survive. "Would you mind stepping outside for a minute or two?" He saw the panic in Eliot's eyes at the prospect of Nathan leaving and stepped forward, saying, "Eliot, a couple of minutes that's all, we need to talk about what happened to you and what's going to happen, what ineeds/i to happen now."

"Nate?" Eliot's voice was hoarse and agitated. "Nate?" he breathed the word out again.

"Two minutes that's all, just a few minutes and I'll be back." Nathan stood, gently extracted himself from Eliot's hold and headed for the door, almost as if despite his concern for Eliot he was relieved to be leaving the doctor to explain what had happened and what was wrong. By the time the door closed softly behind him, Eliot had shut down; fear, pain, anxiety everything locked away, easy to ignore if it hadn't been seen before.

The doctor crossed to Eliot's side, "Do you mind if I listen to your chest? You were having some breathing problems earlier; I'd like to just check how everything is doing now." He moved closer, beginning his examination as he continued to talk. "Do you know what happened, Eliot?"

"Felt strange. We were in a meeting. I didn't feel good, I remember I was going to leave but the feeling just got worse."

The doctor nodded sympathetically, pleased that the young man before him seemed to be answering truthfully, before encouraging Eliot to talk more with further questions. "Was it the first time you felt strange like that, Eliot?"

He watched as Eliot flushed with embarrassment before answering. "No," was the quiet answer. He prompted the young man to explain further and Eliot began, "I've been having dizzy spells. I thought I was tired, you know. I've been trying to get more rest, it's got to be like a flu or something, right? I just feel drowsy so often and I get dizzy when I stand up or when I turn quick or . . . it's been getting more frequent."

"I understand what you're saying. Eliot, have you had any other changes in your health? Any other things that you feel you've been struggling to cope with?" Eliot turned his face away, nervously biting on his lip. "Eliot, let me help you with this . . . Mr Ford and yourself . . ."

"Nathan," Eliot said quietly. "His name is Nathan."

"You and Nathan are together, right?" Eliot gave a hesitant shrug. "He's worried about you, wants to help, I think." Eliot started to draw his arms across his chest, only for the doctor to stop him moving the hand with an IV in it. "You've not told Nathan that you've not felt well."

Eliot shook his head. There was a pause for a time before Eliot said, "I've been feeling nauseous and . . . and throwing up some."

"Yeah, how long's that been going on?"

Eliot half-shrugged, "I don't know, just a bit on and off, I guess, it's been a while. You – you know what's wrong with me?"

The doctor didn't answer straight away, busying himself instead with packing away the oxygen for the time being. Finally he drew a breath, "Eliot . . . do you ever take painkillers?" Eliot's eyes widened in shock, but he nodded. "Vicodin?" elicited another short nod. "Eliot, how long have you been taking Vicodin and how many do you take in a day now?"

There was a silence in the room, broken only by the slight wheeze of Eliot's breathing. The doctor watched him carefully, ready to pull the oxygen back across and re-administer it if there was any further deterioration in his breathing. "Eliot, can you answer those questions for me?"

He shook his head before stammering out, "V-vicodin? That's what did this? It's why I – I . . ." Sudden tears welled in his eyes before he forced out the words, "I never meant for this to happen, I never – it was just . . . The – the pain was . . . this is my fault, I'm not ill, it's my fault!" He dashed a hand across his eyes, "I fucked up!"

The doctor stayed calmly sympathetic, "Eliot, this is not that simple. It's not a matter of it being _your fault_, it is not that you aren't ill. You've been in pain, you took the Vicodin to help with that, but now it's time to stop. We need to find another way to deal with the pain and we need to help you stop taking the Vicodin because it _is_ making you ill. I've spoken to Nathan about this . . ."

"You – you told him?" Eliot's voice held a clear note of horror. "Nathan knows!"

"Yes, Eliot, Nathan knows. We've talked a little about some of the options available to you. There are programs that can help you deal with this addiction."

"I'm _not_ addicted. I don't need a program, I need to get out of here. I need to get away." Eliot was pushing himself up, tearing the IV line from the back of his hand and the pads attached to his chest. "Where are my clothes? Where are my fucking clothes?" he demanded.

The doctor stepped between Eliot and the door, palms up to try and calm the younger man's reaction, while still pressing his point, "Eliot, this is a problem that isn't just going to go away. You can't keep taking the Vicodin like this, it's killing you."

Eliot pushed the doctor's steadying hand away, as his vision swam and he grasped at the bed for support instead. "My clothes?" he demanded again, less forceful, more desperate. "I can't be here, I can't do this now. I need air, I can't breathe, I need air."

The doctor rapidly readied the breathing mask and pushed it towards Eliot, "Breathe with this while we discuss this. Eliot, leaving now, that's not a good choice to make. We can help you if you stick around, we can find some people to help you long term."

"No I want out, I want to go now," he panted through the mask, closing his eyes at the pained sound of his own chest.

* * *

The last thing Nathan had expected when the doctor had asked him to leave the room was to find Eliot exiting the same room a mere twenty minutes later, kind of dressed although judging by the amount of items on backward or only half-buttoned, to say actually dressed might be somewhat misleading. He stood and headed over to Eliot who looked about ready to collapse again, but with a look of distress on his face that Nathan just wanted to wipe away forever.

Nathan made it to Eliot's side, "Eliot? What's going on?"

It was a clear sign of how not right the whole situation was when Eliot jumped, shocked to find Nathan beside him. "Fuck!" he gasped.

The doctor was right behind him. "Eliot, please. Let us help you." But it was too late, Eliot was already storming away down the corridor, the way his head was moving made it clear that he was seeking the exit. The doctor sighed and said, "If you can change his mind, we're here and we'll help. Just bring him back in and ask for me. Right now though, he's not listening to me and he's determined to leave. I've advised him that he's not making a good choice at this point but I'm sorry he really isn't listening . . ."

And those words made the reality hit home, Eliot was leaving, denying that there was a problem, denying himself the help he needed to kick the addiction and it was up to Nathan to fix it. He ran swiftly after the younger man, grateful that he knew the way and that Eliot was slowed down by having to work out where to turn.

"Eliot, is this wise? You know the doctors here can help with this. They can put us in touch with people who can help more. . . I don't know why you won't accept their help, maybe you could explain it to me, El. I want to understand." When he heard the rasping breath that was sawing in and out of Eliot's lungs, knowing he'd heard it before and thought that Eliot had had the start of a chest infection. He'd never imagined anything like this. He took hold of the younger man, slowing his flight. "Stop! Slow down! I'm not going to make you stay if you don't want to, just slow down before you collapse again and _have_ to stay!"

Nathan finally managed to get Eliot to stop, breath heaving frighteningly. He gently swept his hand through the hair that was hanging forward, hiding Eliot's face, "Don't do this El, don't run away from _me_." Eliot stood stock still for a moment, before leaning forward into Nathan's embrace. "I've got you, El, I've got you." He felt as the last of the adrenaline subsided, as Eliot's weariness overcame him and guided him to sit on a nearby chair, ignoring Eliot's whispered objections. Once there and seated, he pulled Eliot closer, arms wrapped securely round him, pulling Eliot's head to rest against his shoulder, hand sifting through his hair, relieved as the harsh wheeze gradually eased from the younger man's breathing, until it could barely be heard over the other sounds of hustle and bustle round the hospital.

"Where do you think you're going, El?" Nathan murmured softly into his hair, one hand still holding him close, while the other rubbed soothing circles on his back. "Where do you think you're going without me?" He felt as Eliot's breathing hitched for a moment, but just maintained his hold and the steady rhythm of circles until Eliot relaxed. "Tell me, El."

Eliot didn't lift his head, just shook it and Nathan knew then that Eliot was running on nothing more than fear and adrenaline. The need to escape had been paramount and he'd acted on it, with no idea where to go or what to do when he got there. Nathan just tightened his grip and gently guided them both to standing, with murmured reassurances of 'home' and 'rest' and 'taking care'. He guided Eliot out of the hospital doors and flagged down a cab that had just dropped someone else off, asking that the cab driver take them home as quickly as possible. He eased Eliot down into the back seat before following him in and keeping him securely tucked into his side.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**__ This story is complete in 12 parts but will take me a little while to repost here. I shall work on it as quickly as I can. Helpful feedback is appreciated. Many thanks for reading._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Nathan didn't know what had hit Eliot since they'd got back to the apartment. It had been fine at first, he'd started by putting the younger man to bed, hoping that he would rest for a while, until some of the pallor and exhaustion had gone from his visage. Eliot had virtually passed out as soon as he'd laid down, sleeping for four hours straight, during which time Nathan had called the rest of the team to reassure them that Eliot was fine, wouldn't be back at work for a while, but he was out of hospital at least and for now he was going to stay with Nathan. He'd then tidied round the apartment, picking up odds and ends that had been left out, setting the laundry going before collapsing onto a chair in front of his computer and starting to search for information on how to overcome this kind of addiction. It didn't really matter what he'd been doing, it had been interspersed with visits to check on Eliot, who didn't seem to have moved at all.

Once he'd woken up though, that was when the problems had started as far as Nathan was concerned.

Eliot had started by going through the medicine cupboard and Nathan had to admit he was shocked by how many bottles of Vicodin Eliot had managed to pull out of the one cupboard, particularly given that this was _his_ apartment. How had he never noticed the excessive amounts? How many more did that mean Eliot had at his own apartment? Then Eliot had headed into the bathroom and returned with another collection. He hadn't been on his feet long, but he was already starting to look shaky again and Nathan tried to intercept his movements but when that just served to make him more agitated, Nathan offered his help. Eliot had turned piercing eyes on him before saying one word, "No!"

Nathan soon discovered that any attempt at coercion only served to ratchet Eliot's anger and frustration further, so in the end he just sat down, saying, "If you want me, I'm here. Anything you need, I'm more than happy to help." He'd sat down again, making sure that he could see Eliot in most locations. He waited, not letting himself get distracted by anything from making sure that Eliot was okay.

By the time, he'd finished there was a truly impressive range of bottles and boxes on the counter beside the sink. Nathan wasn't sure whether to be relieved that in actual fact the majority of them were almost full, a few almost empty were just the ends of prescriptions, the dispensing date long past and as far as he could see they were all proper legal bottles with Eliot's name on or just horrified by the amount of them and the fact this must have been going on for so long and the quantity that Eliot must have taken. While Eliot had slept earlier, he'd read through some of the leaflets the doctor had given him about rehab centers and what he really wanted was to be able to talk sensibly with Eliot about finding one that would help overcome this problem.

Eliot was worn out, his breath wheezing in and out again as he leant against the kitchen counter. Nathan pushed his chair back and crossed into the room to take hold of Eliot and help support his weight, saddened when Eliot again tried to push him away only to stagger and snatch at the counter before slipping to the floor and leaning over resting his head on his knees as his breathing got worse. Not giving him a chance to object, Nathan gently forced him down onto his side, carefully pulling his legs out so he was no longer curled into a ball, hoping it would make it easier to breathe, then he began to rub circles again, over and over until Eliot's breath came easier.

"Eliot, let's get some help with this, please. We don't have to do this on our own."

"No! I don't need help. I've got it. Just leave me alone." Eliot started to push himself up from the floor, brushing away Nathan's hands repeatedly. He finally managed to make it to standing, although he was only managing to stay upright by leaning heavily against the counter, and turned back to all of the bottles, picking up the first, opening it and tipping the contents into the sink's waste disposal before reaching for a second bottle.

"Eliot! I – I don't think this is a good idea," Nathan started anxiously trying to snatch the bottles away but Eliot just ignored him, frantically emptying bottle after bottle away, the waste disposal unit buzzing furiously.

* * *

Ninety minutes passed and Eliot hadn't sat down at all. His face was ghostly in color again, yet even with all the pills gone, he hadn't stopped pacing the apartment. He wasn't listening to Nathan's reasoning about resting, in fact he didn't appear to be listening to anything at all, apart from some vague nonsensical argument he was having with himself.

Nathan stood up and crossed the room to stop Eliot's pacing. The younger man was soaked with sweat, his eyes glazed with pain. "Fuck, man!" Nathan murmured softly, "You've got to let me help you. I can't sit back and watch you like this." He gently laid a hand on Eliot's arm.

"Nate?" Eliot sounded lost. "'m tired, Nate."

Nathan took the admission as his cue to keep contact and lead Eliot to sit down. He sat down on the couch, settling Eliot to lie down with his head resting on a cushion on his lap. Nathan gently sifted his fingers through Eliot's sweat tangled hair, hoping to ease him into resting and hoping that once Eliot was calmer he might be able to coerce him into eating something and then getting some proper sleep. He talked quietly, offering reassurances as Eliot lay still for now, his posture still tense, eyes still flickering round the room.

Nathan reached for the remote and flicked the TV on, channel surfing until he found something that he knew Eliot often watched, a distraction not requiring too much thought. After a while, he felt as Eliot sighed and seemed to relax further, shifting slightly to get more comfortable.

Eventually, Nathan felt as his own stomach grumbled from lack of food and so he resigned himself to having to move from their current position. "El, I've got to get something to eat, my stomach thinks my throat's been cut. Just let me get up and then you can rest again and I'll go make us a bit of something."

Eliot pushed himself up far enough for Nathan to get up and then, when Nathan turned to adjust the cushion, he gave a small, tired but grateful smile and lowered himself back to a horizontal position. Nathan stroked his hand through Eliot's hair again. "Rest for me."

* * *

Nathan worked quickly in the kitchen, heating soup in a pan on the stove at the same time as nuking himself a quick meal, the sort Eliot despised but he kept in the back of the freezer for days when Eliot wasn't around. He filled them both a glass with cool water and a second with orange juice. He was going to need a clear head if he was going to get Eliot through this. He was certain that Eliot had just elected to take the hardest route possible to get himself off the Vicodin but if that was his choice then Nathan wasn't going to leave him to face it alone.

His time searching the internet for clues earlier hadn't reassured him much, except in the sense that this was survivable, but it also sounded like Hell whichever way Eliot decided to play it. The microwave pinged as it came to a stop and Nathan turned his attention to the food inside, figuring whatever was to come was on its way and there wasn't much that he could do to stop it.

He served his meal onto a plate and placed it on the tray before turning back to serve the soup that had been heating on the stove into a small dish. Eliot hadn't been hungry in days now and that was while he was still taking the drugs and all of the sites Nathan had browsed said that he wasn't going to feel much like eating in the foreseeable future, but that he was going to need to try and keep his strength up. The most informative sites had been set up by former addicts and included personal stories and questions from other people who were trying to get free. It was frightening how many of them had been started on these paths by their own personal doctors.

He picked up the tray and walked back into Eliot. He placed the tray on the coffee table and knelt beside Eliot. "I've made you some soup, El. I know you're not feeling great, but if you're going to get through this you have to keep your strength up," he said softly with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"You mean I need to eat something so I've got something to throw up later on," came the resigned answer. Eliot didn't protest further though, just wearily pushed himself upright and accepted the soup that Nathan held out to him. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_," Nathan returned with a smile. "Thank you for trying." He lifted his own plate and sat beside Eliot and began to eat, half watching the TV, half watching over Eliot. He was pleased as Eliot began to eat the soup slowly.

Nathan waited until Eliot had made it through about half of the bowl before he reached forward for a glass of water and held that out to Eliot. He heard the slight sigh as Eliot took hold and began to sip. He reached for his own glass and began to drink himself. After he'd drunk about half the glass he put it back down and turned to take Eliot's. Eliot returned to his soup, but Nathan could see he was finding it harder to eat now. "Have you done?" he asked quietly, his heart breaking a little as Eliot looked away before nodding.

"You've done good, El."

"Hard to eat when you know you're just gonna throw it up later," Eliot murmured reluctantly.

"Well, let's see how that goes before you think like that. I'm going to take the plates away and then we're going to relax for a while, unless you want to go through to bed now."

Eliot bit his lip still not meeting Nathan's eyes, as he whispered, "I'm so sorry, Nate. I'm so sorry." Nathan could hear the barely contained emotion in his voice.

"Don't be sorry, Eliot. Just fight for me, I know this is going to be hard, but please, El, promise me you'll keep fighting."

"Yeah," he replied quietly. "I – I think I'll, maybe I'll just go to bed now." Nathan was struck by how young he suddenly sounded. He watched as Eliot pushed himself up and began to walk towards the bedroom door before turning and saying, "I'm gonna shower first though, you mind?"

"You do whatever you need or whatever you think will help. If you need me to help you, just say, I'm here." Eliot nodded before turning back to the bedroom.

* * *

Nathan looked up at the soft pad of Eliot's bare feet across the wood floor as he made his way from the bathroom to the bedroom. He was still heat flushed from the shower, dressed now in boxers and instead of the t-shirt he usually wore he had a long-sleeved t-shirt and as he walked, he seemed listless, arms wrapped tight around his stomach.

Nathan stood to follow him to the bedroom. He paused at the door and watched as Eliot climbed into bed and curled tight into a ball with the covers pulled securely over him. Nathan crossed the room smoothly and climbed onto the bed behind Eliot. "Hey El. How was the shower?" he asked softly. "Come here babe." He rolled onto his side and gently laid one arm over Eliot's body, letting his hand drop to rest warmly against Eliot's stomach. He was relieved when Eliot shifted back a little, closer into his embrace.

He was grateful for the solid weight of Eliot in his arms, thankful for this chance to chase away the demons of seeing him unconscious in the hospital, feeling his own tension easing along with Eliot's at the gentle rise and fall of Eliot's chest as he breathed. Eventually, he felt as Eliot drifted from resting to sleeping. He laid still awhile longer, embedding the memory firmly before carefully easing back and rising from the bed. He left the nightlight on beside the bed and slipped from the room, pulling the door almost closed behind him.

He headed for the computer, flicked it on as he passed on his way to the kitchen to get another glass of orange juice. As he returned he caught a slight noise at the front door, so soft as to be almost inaudible. He set the glass down, slipped back into the kitchen to get a knife and moved across to wait beside the door. As it opened and Parker rose from where she had been stooped over to pick the lock, he let the knife drop back to his side and glared. "Well?" he said unforgivingly.

"I thought you'd need these," she said holding out a bag, her eyes not meeting his. "There's instructions inside. I'm assuming 'cause he's here, you've not got stuff from the doctor. A doctor wouldn't want to let him go yet." Her voice held an unexpected quaver to it that Nathan couldn't place.

He took the bag and looked inside. He looked up confused, "What?"

"It won't all help straight away and some of what he'll go through nothing will make easier . . . but . . . but you know, maybe some of it will help and then maybe he'll be okay. Right?" her voice held a clear note of desperation in her final question, "Eliot's going to get through this, isn't he?"

"What do you know about this, Parker?" Nathan growled, wanting to shake some sense out of the girl in front of him.

"He takes Vicodin. Lots of it. I've seen him. I sometimes think he doesn't even know how much he takes," she murmured. "Is he asleep?"

"Yeah, he's asleep. You knew he took Vicodin, you _knew_ it was a problem?"

"It's always a problem, Vicodin, but . . ." she looked away. "I'm going now."

He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her closer before she could escape, saying abruptly "You're not going anywhere until you give me an explanation!" She shivered, eyes still not meeting his. This wasn't the Parker he knew, scatty, a little crazy, make that a lot crazy, thrill seeking, this one was broken and afraid of something, very afraid.

"I've seen it before," she said. "That's all. I've seen it before and I told myself I wasn't going to watch it again. I told myself that Eliot didn't matter, that I don't care what happens to him but . . ." her words were choked. "The things in the bag will help if he's strong enough."

"Parker?" his voice softened realizing what her words meant, all that she wasn't actually saying, even though his grip remained firm.

She shook her head. "Gatorade helps too. You have some? I – I could bring you some tomorrow. And bananas – bananas help," she stammered.

"Parker," he said again, this time pulling her closer, whatever this was, she was as frightened of it as of what Eliot was going to be going through. "Thank you. Can I – Did . . ?"

"No," she said, "No I didn't tell them, it's not their business. They don't need to know unless he wants it." There were tears on her cheeks now and she tried anxiously to dash them away. Nathan gently brushed his thumb across her cheek catching the falling tears and she let her head drop to rest against his chest as she whispered, "He didn't make it. We went through this so many times and then . . . then one day he couldn't face it again, he took them all and – and he never woke up."

Nathan's heart tore at the thought of having to watch Eliot go through what he'd read on the internet, time and time again, at the thought of Parker facing something like this and coming out alone. Parker continued, her voice so soft and broken, "I was out, I wasn't even there for him. It was tearing us apart and then – then he was gone and I was on my own. I swore I'd never let anything hurt like that again, but Eliot hurts me too. It's not the same but it hurts."

"Eliot's going to make it, kiddo. He's going to kick this and be strong again and he's going to have you there for him as well as me and then this time won't hurt like the last." It wasn't much but now he understood, Parker had been in his position and things hadn't worked out and now she cared enough for Eliot to be afraid. Like Eliot said, if you don't let people in then it doesn't hurt when they let you down, when they leave. They were all broken, Eliot had said that too. All of a sudden, Nathan was struck how for someone who didn't say all that much, the things Eliot did say were accurate and succinct, easy to lose in the background noise of Hardison and Sophie, but he'd have to make a point of listening to them more often because Eliot was far cleverer than people gave him credit for, cleverer than he led people to believe.

"I should go now," Parker's voice broke into his thoughts. "If you need anything, I can bring it, just – just call me." She carefully pulled away, rubbing at her face in annoyance, a hint of the Parker Nathan recognized in evidence.

She slipped out of the door, closing it behind her and leaving Nathan to relock it with a rueful smile, before he took the bag into the kitchen and emptied the contents out on to the table there and began to pick through them. He found the list of instructions she had included and began to read it looking for each thing in turn.

_Imodium_ he read, _Take this when he starts to need it, not before. Each time he starts again, take some more. Will probably start to need it before Day 1 is over_. Nathan picked through the items scattered on the table until he found the Imodium. He wondered if the fact that it appeared to be the largest available box was any indication of how much it was going to be needed.

_Valium_ his eyes widened in shock. _Start straight away and take a dose that's high enough to work, and let him sleep. It will help with anxiety, shaking, hallucinations and muscle pain, as well as the sleeplessness that will come with the withdrawal. I have also included a tablet cutter thing. Don't just stop taking these, reduce dose gradually, cut tablets into halves or quarters until he's ready to stop. Don't rush him but don't let this replace the Vicodin either. He'll probably need a high dose for at least 5 days._ Nathan shivered, this was big, bigger than he'd ever thought he was letting himself in for, Eliot's life was hanging in the balance and it was up to him to work this crap out but God right now he wished he could just pay someone else to do it right, someone who really knew what they were doing.

_Mineral supplement - this will help later, but don't give it to him at first, he'll just throw it up. Wait 'til he can keep stuff down._

There were also a few tins of simple soups, nothing fancy or heavy, two bottles of Gatorade and some bath salts in the pile of things on the table. Nathan looked back at the list. _Eating is going to be hard, but he'll need something, Gatorade and soup help. _

_Hot baths help, he can have lots of them if he needs but particularly before he's going to try and sleep. There's something in bananas that will help with the pains and stuff that he'll get in his legs__ as well. I couldn't remember what, so I couldn't get it as a supplement. _

_As soon as he can, make him walk and exercise. He'll feel like shit but it does help._ Nathan gulped at the thought of Parker doing all this for someone and it never being enough, thought of himself going out one day and coming back to find Eliot dead. He looked down at the note again and read the final item on the piece of paper. _Make sure he knows you love him, tell him he can do this, remind him he's strong enough and it's worth the fight. Tell him he's got a reason to fight and a reason to make it._ Nathan wondered if Parker thought that was what she'd done wrong. Right now, rationally, looking at Parker's situation, he didn't believe she could have done more, her pain at it not being enough told him that, but when he looked closer to home, he knew he couldn't bear the thought of Eliot not getting through this.

He pushed back from the table, quickly arranged everything along the counter so that he would be able to find it when he needed it, picked up the first bottle of Gatorade and opened the Valium and removed one, read the packet again and then took a second tablet. He screwed the lid back on tight, braced himself against the counter while he took a few deep cleansing breaths before picking up the bottle and the tablets and heading for Eliot, hoping he'd be able to wake him just enough to swallow them so that Eliot could sleep through at least some of the effects of the withdrawal.

He wondered how long since Eliot had taken his last dose now, how long before the symptoms of the withdrawal really began to hit. Eliot was curled tight again in his sleep, a frown furrowed deep across his forehead. Nathan set the bottle and pills on the bedside table before lowering himself to sit alongside Eliot. "El? El, Eliot," he called gently, stroking his hand through Eliot's hair, noticing the heat burning off Eliot again and the sweat that had matted his hair. His stomach twisted as he acknowledged that he couldn't deny that the withdrawal had started. He called Eliot's name a few more times before he got a real reaction. Eliot groaned and seemed to pull even tighter round his stomach. Nathan wondered whether giving him the pills was a good idea or whether he was likely to throw up before they could do any good.

Nathan was tempted to go and phone Parker, see what she knew. Eliot's eyes opened, pain clear. He groaned again before trying to sit up. Nathan tried to keep him as still as possible only for Eliot to try and push him away so he could get up. He shifted enough that Eliot made it out of the bed and staggered to the bathroom. He came back a few minutes later, his face looking haggard.

He slumped back onto the bed beside Nathan, arms still protectively round his stomach. He began to lean towards Nathan only to then pull himself more upright guiltily. Nathan gave a resigned sigh before lifting his own arm and putting it around Eliot's shoulders to pull him closer, "It's okay, El. If you need me, I'm here for you. I'm here." Eliot let his head drop onto Nathan's shoulder, seeming to silently soak up the support he was being offered. Nathan gave him some time before beginning to talk again. "El, I've got you some things that might help with what's coming, what's going to happen. I've got some pills here for you to take." Eliot shook his head. "No, listen to me. We're going to be real careful here, okay? But these are going to help you get sleep, so you don't have to feel all of the pain, they're going to take away some of the pain too, some of the other symptoms and we'll be careful, you're not going to take too many, you're not going to be stuck taking these instead of the Vicodin. They're just to get you through the worst of what's to come, El, I promise. I'm here to make sure that's what happens."

Eliot lifted a hand to wipe across his face, but he didn't say a word, so after a few moments, Nathan began to speak again, "I've got some other things, if – if your stomach's bad, I've got you some Imodium. I've got some Gatorade too and some supplements to keep you fighting this. The Gatorade you're going to keep sipping all the time. I think your stomach is going to be bad," Nathan kept his voice gentle, he knew there wasn't really any 'think' about the forthcoming stomach problems that Eliot was facing, the fact that Eliot was already holding his stomach tight meant it was pretty definite.

Eliot nodded reluctantly. He said "I'll do whatever you want me to." He was quiet, but Nathan felt as he pressed closer into the embrace. Nathan turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I – I'm so sorry, Nate, I never – never meant this to happen. I – The doctor he gave me them, you have to believe me, he gave me them."

"I believe you and I know, but now I am going to help you fix this. This isn't you, El, it really isn't, so we're going to get through this and you're going to be fine, I promise you." Eliot pulled away slightly and reached for the pills and the bottle of Gatorade, quickly swallowing the pills and taking a few extra sips of Gatorade before setting the bottle down again. He moved as if to lie back down again. "You ready to sleep again?" Nathan asked, smiling at the shrug he received in response. He added, "You want a bath first?" Eliot looked at him obviously confused having had a shower not all that long previously. "Listen, you might find having baths help you relax, make you feel easier over the next few days. So you want one, you have one, promise me that, El. It's easy and it'll help you." Nathan hoped that Eliot would understand that for all the next few days were going to be hard, if there was something that would help he could have it. "El, it's not too late to change your mind. We can go back to the hospital now and get you some proper help."

"Please Nate, no." It was enough, Nathan helped him lie back down, tucked him in and sat behind him, running his hand through Eliot's hair until he drifted back to sleep again.

* * *

Two more days had passed and Nathan had so hoped that the worst of it all would be over by now, but it seemed like the opposite was true. Eliot was in pain and Nathan just wanted to go and get Vicodin himself and put a stop to this pain. He wanted to wrap Eliot in cotton wool and keep everything out. Right then he was running yet another bath, in the hope that Eliot might gain a little relief from soaking away some of the tension again. It seemed to help each time, but the respite just didn't last anywhere long enough to Nathan's mind. He'd increased the amount of Valium he was giving Eliot each time, he'd spoken to Parker before increasing the dose and she'd said if he needed more she knew where to get them. That wasn't the issue. The real issue was how many things he wanted the Valium to change. Already Eliot was suffering from shaking, anxiety at ridiculously petty things, his muscles were in constant pain, his legs and arms hurting and restless and he hadn't slept for long since halfway through that first night. The baths combined with the Valium seemed at first to be enough to get Eliot to begin to relax, he would start to fall asleep, hovering on the cusp of unconsciousness for a while before jerking awake again. If he did drift into actual sleep, the most he seemed to get before waking now was thirty minutes.

Nathan looked at him, he was pale and washed out, his complexion almost gray, with pain engraved in deep furrows around his eyes and across his forehead, his eyes watery and his nose red like he'd got a cold. God, almost every withdrawal symptom he'd read about could be seen right now in Eliot and it was heart-breaking.

He found himself constantly reassuring the younger man that he was strong enough to get through this, that he could do it, but Nathan was honest, he himself was tired, he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take alone. Parker had been unexpectedly truly amazing, she'd foreseen almost everything they'd need, constantly leaving packages on the doorstep but since that first night, she'd made no attempt to come into the apartment and so when there was a knock at the door and Nathan opened it to find her there, face anxious like she couldn't decide whether to stick around or run as far away as possible he was surprised.

"Come in," he greeted. "Eliot's in the bath just now." She nodded and held out another bag, more soup and Gatorade, fresh soft bread and another bottle of tablets. Nathan reached in and pulled it out to see what it was.

"He's not sleeping, neither of you are," she said quietly. Nathan nodded. She drew a deep breath before saying anything more, "They'll help later. I'll sit with him now and you can sleep. They'll help when he stops taking the Valium, the not sleeping . . . it can last . . . a long time. He'll be tired, it doesn't help with dealing with the rest." She lifted a finger to her mouth, chewing on its nail.

Nathan looked with sympathy at her, seeing that all of her usually tidy nails, practical not decorated like Sophie's, were gnawed and bitten. "Are you sure?" he asked gently.

She nodded, "Tell him, I'm not going in the bathroom with him so . . . yeah, that bit's up to you, but once he's here we can watch a movie and you can sleep for a while."

* * *

Eliot had tried to protest against Parker's presence, but he just hadn't had the energy to fight Nathan for long and for that Nathan was grateful. He was tired, exhausted, he needed sleep and he didn't really want to leave Eliot to suffer through this hell on his own while he caught up on a few hours' sleep.

He looked across at the clock beside the bed, he'd slept for a little more than seven hours and he felt so much better for it. He was tempted to close his eyes and try for another hour or two, but then felt guilty. Parker was hurting. Eliot was hurting and he was laid here enjoying the peace and quiet.

Eliot's physical pain was clearly visible, but there was more to it than just the physical and they hadn't even begun to deal with either the mental addiction or the psychological effects. They hadn't really talked about how Eliot ended up in this position beyond Eliot's apologies and Nathan's attempts to tell him it didn't matter, because it did matter. It mattered a lot because right then, Nathan wanted to go punch the shit out of the so-called legitimate doctor that had let this happen. He needed to be certain first of all though that he got the right doctor and secondly that Eliot hadn't been stealing scripts.

It mattered and it didn't. It mattered if Eliot had done nothing, and if he had been stealing then it didn't matter, what mattered was putting a stop to it. Christ, he thought nothing of Parker's light-fingered tendencies, of Hardison's continued dabbling in things he shouldn't, so long as they used them more for good than just self-indulgence then he considered it a win, but somehow he'd managed to convince himself that Eliot didn't do bad things except for the good cause or at least he didn't anymore. He wondered why exactly it was he thought that, was it just because Eliot didn't say anything different? There were lots of things Eliot didn't talk about, more than half of what Nathan knew about Eliot had come from files he'd read about him and not from things he'd told Nathan willingly.

He'd admitted indirectly one night after Nathan had accused him of being insensitive to Parker and Hardison about them not having families, about them having been in foster homes and the like that he too knew what it was like. Nathan had pressed for more information and finally he'd cracked, admitting that he'd been passed from home to home for years until he'd run away, that just twice in his life he'd had _a sweet deal_, a family who wanted to make the arrangement permanent, give him the home and family he really deserved. Both times, the process of paperwork had been started and then his mother had decided to reclaim him, her rights superseding everyone else's it seemed. She'd kept him long enough for the families to move on, find another child to offer their love and a brighter future and then she'd dumped him again.

Eliot had shrugged it off as unimportant, not relevant, but Nathan could see lurking in the depths of his eyes that it really did matter, it still hurt just as much as it had when he was younger.

Nathan had read many of the case files that had been Eliot's jobs before Dubenich, he'd been amazed at just how many of them were not just about the money but were about justice for the wronged party, about righting wrongs, returning stolen items, freeing innocents. Not all by any means, but enough to know that when the option was there, Eliot always tried to find the 'better' job.

And Parker . . . she was different too. Quieter, more grown up and more broken all at the same time. Nathan made his way to the door, where he leant against the frame watching Parker and Eliot. They were sitting together on the floor beside the coffee table. Nathan smiled as he watched Eliot trying to explain the rules of chess to Parker, as they each made a move and then Eliot explained why he'd made the move following hers, as Parker's hand moved to rest against one of Eliot's twitching legs, calming the restless movement. They both looked pale, drawn, tired but surviving and that alone counted for so much at the moment.

"Hey," he greeted with soft affection, crossing the room, coming to stand behind Eliot, kneeling down and letting his hands rest on Eliot's shoulder as he leaned over to see the game with a smile at Parker. "You beating him yet?"

She looked up with a tired smile, "No, he's good at this, either that or he's not telling me everything, keeping something up his sleeve so he always wins."

"Well, I think it's time I got you two something to eat." He squeezed Eliot's shoulder as he started to object. "It's time for a banana, man. It'll help with the pain in your legs and everything. How are you doing? You manage to get any rest."

Parker shook her head in disapproval as Eliot said, "A little." She stood up and walked towards the kitchen and Nathan heard as she began to move things round, giving them a little time and privacy.

Nathan took the opportunity to draw Eliot closer into his side, "El, you gotta be truthful with me. You gotta tell me it hurts or you haven't be able to rest. You don't have to do this on your own, I'm here to help, I'm here and I'm sticking by you. You're doing well, you're fighting this so well, and it's going to get easier. Soon this will be easier." He hadn't really expected an answer, but Eliot resting his head in the crook of Nathan's neck, hand lifting to rest over Nathan's heart was answer enough and Nathan bent his head to rest over Eliot's.

* * *

_**Author's Note :**__ Thanks again for reading. More as soon as I can get it posted. Thank you to those people who commented on chapter 1._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

They'd made it through another twenty-four hours of Hell. Parker had stopped by twice and she had warned that there was no way that Hardison and Sophie were going to be put off visiting any longer. If Eliot was well enough to be out of hospital, he was well enough for visitors. Parker had admitted that she hadn't known how to say that Eliot wasn't well enough to be out of hospital, but he just wouldn't stay there, she'd run out of excuses.

Nathan had known their time was running out, in many respects was amazed he'd made it four days without them breaking the door down. He'd turned Eliot's phone off and packed it out of sight, Eliot had more than enough to occupy him without even noticing the absence of his phone. He hadn't however, been able to turn his own phone off completely and he'd stalled as long as he could.

Right now, Eliot was in the bath again, letting the heat soothe the aching muscles of his tormented body. Nathan and Parker had a plan and if all went well, it would work. She was heading to the office now to make sure that she could get Hardison and Sophie there and into a meeting, ready. Nathan would follow as soon as he'd got Eliot out of the bath, he'd already watched as Eliot had swallowed another dose of Valium. "Come on, El," he said gently as he watched Eliot's eyelids droop heavily as sleep beckoned. "Let's get you into bed and resting properly." If this worked, Nathan could be back just after Eliot woke up. Last time they'd tried it, Eliot had slept for almost an hour. It was the most he'd managed since that first night.

Eliot made his way to bed and Nathan watched as he slumped wearily, barely enough energy to lift his feet into the bed, let alone fight to pull the covers over. Nathan tucked him in, then stood back to watch as he seemed to slip further into sleep.

As soon as he was sure Eliot was asleep, he turned and almost ran from the apartment, snatching keys on the way. He drove his car bordering on reckless through the heavy traffic, determined to make it to the office in record time.

Thirty minutes later and Nathan was feeling pretty pleased with himself, the meeting was going smoothly. Hardison and Sophie were intent on the 'job' that he and Parker had devised. It would serve to take them out of town for a few days, which would give Eliot those few more days to recover and be able to cope with the rest of the team when they returned.

Forty-five minutes in and he knew they were hooked. He began to round the meeting up, ensuring they all knew what to do, making sure that they would be safe while they worked. Ten minutes later and they were all leaving, and Nathan found himself locking the office doors and heading back to his car.

* * *

The apartment was quiet as he entered, but something felt wrong. It wasn't just quiet, it was strangely too quiet although he couldn't explain that. The atmosphere was wrong. He shut the door behind him, striding through to the bedroom. It was empty and the feeling of wrong ratcheted up a notch. He turned for the bathroom, saw the door open, the room empty. _Fuck! Where the hell was Eliot?_

He dashed into the kitchen and there he found a heart-breaking sight, Eliot curled into the corner between the cupboards rocking back and forth, tears streaming silently down his face, a bottle of pills clutched in his hand.

Nathan dropped to his side, pulling him in close and trying to ease the bottle from his hand. As the bottle came free, Nathan was relieved to find that it still felt full; whatever demon Eliot was fighting right now, he hadn't yet succumbed. Nathan rocked him gently; no words could fight this, nothing. The only things he had left to offer were support, time and patience. Somewhere, somehow, Eliot had to find the strength inside to overcome this and Nathan knew he had that strength, otherwise he'd have come home to find the pills gone and Eliot slumped on the floor unconscious or dead.

Nathan put the bottle back on the counter top before helping Eliot up from the floor and leading him back to the couch. He sat down, bringing Eliot with him and waited, giving Eliot time and space to make choices about what he said. "D'you want to talk to me about it?"

"I'm sorry," Eliot whispered hoarsely.

"No, El! You have nothing to be sorry for. Whatever you were thinking back then, you didn't do it! You were strong, you hung on and you've made it past that. You're doing so well, El. You make me so proud, man."

"I'm so tired, Nate, I just want to sleep, I need to sleep." The distress the lack of sleep was causing him was clear. Eliot had had barely six hours in total in the last four and a half days, snatched for the most part in twenty or thirty minute bursts.

"Is that what it was about in the kitchen? The sleep?" Nathan prompted gently.

"Part of it. I don't think I can do this, I don't think I'm strong enough to do this any more, Nate." Nathan was quiet for a while as he tried to work out what to say for the best, how to reassure Eliot that the worst was almost over; how could he promise something like that when it wasn't him needing the strength to do it, when he hadn't been there himself. "I'm trying not to give up but this isn't the same. This isn't like just being hurt, this isn't overcoming what someone's done to me. _I_ did this, Nathan."

"You _are_ strong enough to get through this, you're not just going to give up. Now let's rest and watch a movie together." Nathan stood up and crossed to turn the TV on then came back and sat down alongside Eliot. "Now come on El, lie down, rest your head on this cushion," he said putting a cushion on his knees. Eliot followed the instruction, too tired to argue, too tired to fight.

They sat for a time watching the movie, Nathan gently ran his hand over Eliot's head, down his cheek, along his arm, constant soothing contact. He was pleased to see that the restlessness in Eliot's legs didn't seem to be so bad just then. He knew it would be back, knew the aches would also return but for every hour they made it through, they were an hour closer to Eliot making it. He looked down at the sound of a soft snore and smiled as he realized that finally Eliot was asleep. He gave another smile, it may not last long, but again, it was another step towards this torment being over.

* * *

The sleep hadn't lasted long but overnight Eliot had slipped to sleep twice more and he'd managed to stay more or less still in between on the couch watching DVDs while Nathan had slept. Nathan had woken regularly to check on him, thankful that he'd seemed calm each time. The third time he'd woken, he had moved through to lie on the couch with Eliot. Eliot had chosen well when he'd picked that one, it was long enough for Nathan to lie down on and wide enough that they could lie together on it. Nathan settled against the back, and waited for Eliot to lie in front of him before wrapping his arms around the younger man.

It hadn't taken long for Nathan to fall asleep, his dreams filled with the knowledge that Eliot was safe in his arms. When he woke, he was relieved that Eliot was still there safe, 'resting'. "Hey, how are you doing, El?"

Eliot shifted in his arms, pressing his body back against Nathan's slightly. Nathan let out a slight groan and tried to still the movement. "Easy, Eliot. Did you get any sleep?"

Eliot shrugged but didn't say anything. "Anything worth watching on the TV? D'you want me to go put a film in?" Eliot shifted turning over, before settling again, this time facing Nathan. Nathan smiled and lifted his hand to brush Eliot's hair back from his face, pleased to see that despite the exhaustion still there, Eliot's eyes didn't hold the pain he'd been in the previous day. He leant forward to kiss Eliot's forehead affectionately. As Nathan drew back, Eliot's hand slipped behind his neck to hold him still and as Eliot lifted his own head, he pulled Nathan forward again until their lips met softly. When Nathan pulled back, he was smiling, his own hand resting against Eliot's jaw, thumb tracing back and forth across his cheek. "You make me so proud, you're doing good, El, so good." Eliot's eyes closed and he shifted again to rest his head on Nathan's chest. Nathan relished the contact, the warmth of Eliot within his arms, the proof that they could overcome this.

A few minutes later and Eliot was asleep, his body relaxed but for the occasional shift and twitch of his legs. Nathan hoped that wouldn't worsen for a while yet, as it was amongst the symptoms that were most stopping Eliot getting any decent amount of sleep as far as he could tell.

* * *

"So you let them go on a job without you?" Eliot said tetchily from his position at the window.

"It's recon, not an actual job," Nathan said patiently from his seat on the other side of the room. He'd been half watching Eliot, half reading for the last hour and apart from the almost continuous restless agitation, Eliot had stood still at the window.

"And they've all gone . . . and they didn't find it in the least bit . . . strange that you were staying here with – with _me_?"

"No, they didn't and while we're on that subject . . ."

"Parker knows . . . she's told them all, that's what this is all about." Eliot's hands were fisted at his side, fury evident. "That's it now. I fucked it all up. Why the fuck are you still here?" he rounded angrily glaring from the window to stare accusingly at Nathan.

"Firstly, yes Parker knows and no she hasn't told anyone anything. We need to talk about this, all of this, Eliot, calmly. And while we're on the subject, I'm not going anywhere, not least because this is my apartment."

Eliot turned away again. Nathan started anxiously across the room as he saw Eliot draw his fist back as if to smash it through the window. He was relieved to see the momentum drain before Eliot could do any damage and as he reached him, he slipped his arms round Eliot's waist drawing him back against his own body. He felt the fight warring in the body in his arms as Eliot tried to pull away, tried to hide the tremors of his twitching muscles.

"I'll go pack, it'll fix the problem," Eliot muttered as he started away from Nathan again, only to find himself held tighter. Filled with a sudden irrational panic, he pulled away more abruptly, lashing out. "Let me go! Let Go!" Nathan heard the fear in the words, recognized instantly that it wasn't anger but panic that was driving Eliot again. He let go and stepped back immediately giving Eliot space only for the younger man to stumble and lose his balance, landing heavily on his knees, panting uneven breaths. Keeping his distance, Nathan lowered himself to the floor where Eliot could see him, held out a hand in a gesture of support and waited as Eliot struggled to get himself under control.

When Eliot had finally calmed down, Nathan found himself being watched warily as if Eliot was waiting for some sort of reaction from him. Nathan held his tongue, deliberately kept his expression calm, hoping it conveyed just how deeply he cared. Eventually he gave in waiting for Eliot to break the silence and instead said, "I think we should go for a walk. I think the fresh air would do you good. Blow out the cobwebs as they say."

Eliot's eyes narrowed suspiciously and Nathan wished he could work out what the right thing to say was to get rid of that look. "El, you've been cooped up in here for almost six days. Let's go for a walk, maybe it'll help you sleep later."

"Where?" the word was cut off, detached.

Nathan continued to stay calm, 'Where would you like to walk to? I don't mind. Maybe not too far today, just take it easy. We could go round the block."

Eliot gave a slight shake of his head before pushing himself slowly to his feet. "You should go and help them. Get on with your life. I'll . . . I'll go now, back to my place, out of your hair. Sorry – sorry for – for everything."

Nathan moved closer, barely holding back the urge to wrap Eliot in his arms again. "Let's just go for a walk, then we can talk, before you make any decisions on moving back to your place. There's no rush for decisions like that." He paused for a moment or two, waiting as Eliot seemed to waiver. He barely recognized the man in front of him as the strong muscle man of their team, the man they all relied on to keep them safe. How could he have missed how broken he was underneath the façade? Hell, he held this man closer than anyone in recent times and he still hadn't really seen him! How had he failed so badly?

As he watched, he saw a wince pass across Eliot's features, saw him almost brace his body tighter again as if fighting something inside. Nathan edged closer, "El?" He reached a hand out to Eliot's arm, disappointed when Eliot stepped backward, keeping his distance. He let his hand drop back to his side and waited.

Eliot walked towards the bedroom, turning at the door, "I'll go for a walk, like you said."

Nathan nodded, leaving Eliot to go and get himself ready. He slipped the pair of shoes he'd been wearing earlier back on and sat down to wait. Twenty minutes later and he was anxious in the extreme, but trying to hold back and give Eliot the time and space he needed.

In the end, he couldn't wait any longer and so he walked to the bedroom door, where he paused, taking in the view inside. Eliot's backpack was on the bed, a few things inside, but Eliot was slumped beside it, both hands up so he could rub at his temples as if to massage away the tension within.

Nathan crossed to sit beside him, thinking again how much he wanted to fix things with this man, how much he owed him. His own drinking had been out of control and he'd known it, denied it admittedly, but in truth, he'd known that all the accusations the others had thrown at him had been true. Eliot was the one who'd listened, who'd given him something to want to give it up for, the one who'd made it possible to find the strength to give it up. He'd done it the easy way, he'd gone for help, hated the withdrawal even so but Eliot had been there every step, much of the time he'd been in front making sure that as far as possible the hurdles were smoothed over before he reached them, running interference and protecting. "D'you want to talk about it?" Eliot let out a soft half-snort of sardonic laughter. Nathan tried again, "Okay, do you want me to talk?"

Eliot shook his head, a small, almost indiscernible movement. He took a breath as if he were about to say something. Nathan waited. "I don't want to go," Eliot admitted finally, voice so quiet that the words were almost lost.

Nathan felt a wave of relief pass through him as he replied, "Well that's good, 'cause I really don't want you to go either. It sounds like we might just be in a win-win situation to me!"

Eliot shook his head again, more determined this time, as the bitter truth began to spill from his lips, "I'm supposed to protect you all, that's my job, right? Look at the state of me! How in hell am I supposed to believe you can trust me to have your backs when . . ."

"Stop it," Nathan's voice was firm without being raised at all. "You're beating yourself up about this and you shouldn't be, there's no need to do that. No need at all. Yeah, you _are_ supposed to have our backs, but we're supposed to have yours too, El. We have let you down. Are you ever going to be able to forgive us for not seeing how much you were hurting? For not seeing what was happening to you? Can you forgive us for that?"

Eliot's head hung, eyes settled on the floor in despair. "I let you down. You all need someone you can rely on, someone not like me."

Nathan rationalized quickly, he had already figured on them needing to have this talk, just had planned on it being at least after they'd walked in the hope that Eliot would be physically able to sit for a while if not allowing himself a few more days to delay. Parker had said he needed to be exercising as soon as possible, needed to be out of the apartment and getting the air, but Nathan could see guilt, despair and self-loathing eating away at Eliot and they weren't doing him any good either. He was faced with two choices : Talk then Walk or Walk then Talk. He regarded Eliot for another minute in silence as he made up his mind. He stood and moved closer to Eliot, dropping to the floor in front of him and leaning up as he pulled Eliot's face closer so he could kiss him, then turned his attention to Eliot's feet where he swiftly pulled off the sneakers, before shifting to the head of the bed and sitting down so he could lean back against the wall and pulling Eliot unresisting toward him. He wasn't happy until he had Eliot settled between his legs, his back lying against Nathan's stomach and his head resting on his shoulder. He let one hand rest almost possessively spread over Eliot's stomach, while the other had taken hold of Eliot's hand and now lay with their fingers intertwined over Eliot's heart.

"We're going to talk," he said quietly. He felt Eliot stiffen and rubbed gentle circles over his stomach, until Eliot let his free hand settle over his, stilling the movement. "We're going to talk so that we can figure out what went wrong and how we make sure it doesn't happen again; what you need to keep you safe from this. We're going to start with you telling me about the Vicodin."

Eliot's voice was barely whispered as he asked, "What do you want to know about it?"

"When did you first start taking it?"

"F-first ever or first this time?"

Nathan shifted his fingers so now both hands were interlocked, intertwined with Eliot's. "Just talk, tell me what you can. I'm here for you and I'm listening."

"Th-the first time I was about twenty-three. I only took a few before I threw the prescription out. I figured I could manage the pain better – better than the way it made me feel," he shuddered at the memory. "But it took so long before I did feel better, before the pain did go that in the end I decided I must have been wrong. I thought that I should have taken them."

Nathan stayed quiet, waiting, deliberately holding back from asking what had happened when Eliot was twenty-three, why he'd been prescribed them, how they'd made him feel then. He gave what he hoped would be seen as a reassuring squeeze and waited.

Eliot slipped one hand away from Nathan's to wipe across his face. There was a moment or two more of silence before Eliot began quietly again. "When I was twenty-five, I ended up in hospital, they gave me Vicodin then. I took it, not at first, there was other stuff first, even stronger." He pulled away from Nathan, sitting up and swinging his legs back over the side of the bed, hunched, breathing unevenly as the memories assaulted him thick and fast. Eventually he swallowed and continued to explain, "I took them and they helped and I got better and I stopped taking them as soon as I could, but I kept the leftover pills. The next time I got hurt bad, I couldn't go to hospital, too many questions. I fixed myself up the best I could and used the leftover Vicodin for a couple of days to take away the worst of the pain."

Nathan had moved forward too, resting his hand on Eliot's back. "I didn't take them for a long time then. I still didn't like them . . . still didn't like what they did to me, how they made me feel, but sometimes . . . sometimes I'd hurt so much and I'd just want something to take it away, if only for a few minutes." Nathan couldn't believe how much pain Eliot had suffered and how he'd tried so hard to manage both physically alone and without taking anything to ease the pain.

"When you set up the company again, you said we had to have health checks . . . Fuck!" he shuddered again. "Medical insurance and all that shit!" Eliot had drawn his knees up to his chest, his hands now clasped round his legs as if he was trying to hold himself together. Nathan wished then he'd known what he was asking of Eliot, he'd thought he was offering them all a gift of something good, yes he'd had Hardison 'doctor' a few records, but he'd insisted they all have the medical to make sure that if anything happened they'd each get what they needed. He'd wanted the best for them, he'd wanted to not sit and watch someone die like he'd had to watch Sam die.

"He said I had damage, he said it must hurt . . . I hadn't noticed . . . I didn't feel it anymore. He said that was even worse, I'd be making things worse without thinking because I wouldn't ever know what to protect. He did tests . . ." Eliot was shaking now, tears flowing as he admitted how fucked up he really was, how he had been horrified to listen to the doctor and find that he was somehow not feeling what he should be and so the doctor had insisted that he took pain relief to manage the situation. "I got them wrong . . . the tests . . ." Nathan gave a soft wry smile behind Eliot at the thought of Eliot thinking of the tests like something he had to pass like a test in school. "He said – he said it wasn't normal, I wasn't normal."

The smile dropped from Nathan's features replaced by anger. When Hardison was back, he was going to have him investigate the 'doctor' that Eliot had been seeing. He took a deep breath and moved closer wrapping his arms round Eliot again. "He was wrong, El, so wrong."

"The tests though . . . he showed me," Eliot twisted round, eyes gleaming. "He told me the only thing to do was to take the Vicodin to protect myself . . ." Nathan could already list a whole bunch of things that were wrong with that. Why would anyone need to take a painkiller for pain they weren't feeling? "I – I didn't do it . . . I didn't take it, not like he said," Eliot's voice dropped quieter, the guilt was clear though.

"Tell me," Nathan murmured softly, against his temple.

"I got hurt on one of our jobs, it wasn't bad though. I didn't think it was bad until . . . I came to work and you all looked at me, you all stared at me like it should be worse, like I should have felt more. I mean it hurt, it did, I just . . . I just . . ." There was fear in Eliot's voice now and Nathan just wanted to reassure him. "It did hurt, Nate, I just didn't think it mattered. I was supposed to be at work so I came and I didn't want to take the Vicodin and . . . and I just fucked it all up."

"Tell me more, what happened then, Eliot? What happened after that?" Nathan needed to hear it all for it to make sense because there were too many things that were wrong and none of it yet explained how they found themselves in the current situation.

"I went to see him again. I didn't tell him about the Vicodin but I showed him the injuries and he said I had to have more tests. He sent me to a clinic. I called you, said I needed a couple of days."

Nathan remembered it, remembered the worry about how injured Eliot had been and whether he'd be alright on his own. He wished he'd gone with his gut instinct then and gone to visit Eliot, realized _then_ there was a problem.

"The tests hurt, Nate. They hurt so goddamned much, I wanted to get up and walk out, but – but I couldn't. They gave me something, Nate, I don't know what, but I could feel the pain . . . I could feel it all but I couldn't move. They said that just proved that there was something wrong with me."

"They were wrong. I wish I'd known, El, I wish I'd known where you were. I wish I could have been there with you." Nathan could remember the fear, the medical jargon, the fast pace of things they'd thrown at him with Sam, the difficulty in thinking straight, making a decision, working out what choice was the right one, the necessity of being able to trust the doctor to tell you the truth. Nathan found himself not trusting anything Eliot had been told, he was sure that something was getting twisted, there was something that Eliot wasn't telling him.

"He knew, Nathan, he knew I hadn't been taking all of the Vicodin he'd prescribed me. He . . . I . . . I did. After that, I did . . . I started taking it like he said, ignoring that it didn't make me feel good and that I didn't think I needed it, I took it like _he_ said. I took it and I saw him regularly and he did more tests and he told me things were getting better and I tried to take less then, figured maybe I was fixed you know. But the less I took, the more I hurt all the time and then I knew that he was right. I'd got all this stuff wrong with me and if I didn't take the Vicodin then, I couldn't do what needed to be done and what he'd done had healed some of the damage so . . . so now I could feel what was actually wrong."

Nathan wondered whether now was the time to actually tell him that that wasn't true, whether now was the time to tell him that he'd not been seeing a doctor but some sick fuck who'd actually been hurting him all along or whether he was better to wait until he had more information and Eliot was stronger.

"I only had to call him and he would get it for me. I picked the new ones up one day and he'd changed them, said I needed a higher dose. I'm sorry, Nate, I'm sorry, I fucked up, I tried to get it right. Then we started this between us and I tried to stop again. I wanted to be normal, but I just couldn't do it. If I hurt like this then I can't do my job, I can't keep you all safe. You won't . . ."

"You can do your job. You're going to get better, like you were before, I promise you this, no more Vicodin, just you. We'll find a way to deal with any pain, _any_ pain at all. We're going to get you a real doctor, one who knows what he's doing. We're not going to do any jobs where anyone can get hurt until you're better, all fixed up and ready to go, because you are the one I trust to look after my team and keep them safe. You are the only one I will ever trust and so we will wait for you to be able to do it and that's fine."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The reassurance seemed to have helped Eliot, he'd pushed himself through the lingering pain of withdrawal, pushed himself to walk with Nathan, then pushed himself to do more, Nathan had woken up to find him doing stomach crunches and push ups, pain etched deep across his features. Suddenly Nathan found himself trying to hold Eliot back, trying to make him give his body time to recover.

Parker had taken to phoning several times a day to find out how things were, using the pretense of keeping them informed about the recon. It was a relief to tell her they could wind it up and come home, in fact more than that Nathan wanted them home urgently.

He'd talked again with Eliot about the doctor he'd been seeing, discovering that Eliot had signed up with an older doctor with a small practise, when Nathan had insisted on them each having medical cover. He'd seen him twice before the practise had been taken over. Eliot admitted he hadn't liked the new doctor so much, but figured that was just his problem, not used to being prodded and poked, not used to someone prying in the way the new doctor had insisted upon.

Nathan had pressed until Eliot had told him more about the clinic and the tests. The more he heard, the more convinced he became that it was no genuine clinic. "Eliot," he began one evening as they were laid on the couch, supposedly watching TV, "before I told you to get a doctor and you had to have the checks done for the insurance, before all of this, did you have a doctor?"

"Not since . . . not in a long time. I saw a couple of doctors when I was in care for kid stuff, since then I've not really bothered. I either dealt with it myself or I went to hospital. I tried to make sure I kept enough money to pay for basic hospital stuff and I made sure they let me out as soon as possible."

"Okay," Nathan ran his fingers through Eliot's hair, hoping to keep him relaxed. He was quiet for a few minutes then murmured softly, "We're going to get you a proper doctor, Eliot, one who'll look out for you when you need it. And when you're well, we're going to hunt the bastard down that did this to you and he's going to pay."

"But you don't understand . . ." Eliot began.

Nathan cut him off with the words, "Oh, but I do, Eliot, I do understand. Some bastard convinced you there was something the matter with you, told you that because you don't give in when you hurt that it meant you weren't normal. Well, I'm telling you now, you do feel pain when you hurt, you amaze me with how you soldier on anyway, but you feel it. You told me about that day you came to work injured and we all stared at you, fuck I wish we'd talked about this then! We stared at you because not one of us could believe that you _would_ come to work when you felt like that, that you didn't understand that you _could_ take a day off. The team hadn't been together long then, I thought you didn't trust us enough to let your guard down and take the day, hell the week off! I didn't – I didn't know that you thought you _had_ to come in. I – I forget that you, Parker and Hardison have never had ordinary jobs before, you've never had a job where when you feel ill like that, you call in sick. None of us would have held it against you, hell, Hardison would have been round with video games to amuse you and Sophie would have used it as an excuse to go shopping to buy things for you. Parker would probably have been thrilled to have an excuse to break into your apartment and check you were breathing. But not one of us would have held it against you," he finished pressing a kiss into his hair as he squeezed Eliot closer to his chest.

"I didn't know," Eliot whispered, "I didn't know that."

* * *

The rest of the team had returned a day later and Nathan and Eliot joined them in the office to discuss what they'd found on their recon. Hardison and Sophie had both been effusive in their greeting of Eliot until Nathan had deliberately distracted them both from Eliot who had visibly paled under their scrutiny. Parker had been more reserved, no blunt outspoken remarks nor the quiet anxiousness that had been apparent on her visits to the apartment after Eliot's release. She avoided meeting Eliot's eyes, which Nathan figured could have been amusing in a different situation as she was so intent on avoiding looking at Eliot that she was completely unaware of him doing the same thing.

Nathan knew he was going to have to sit the two of them down together so that they could get past this, but in the short term, he needed them all to think about a job, the recon they'd just collected, because that was unthreatening and nothing too close to home.

Nathan asked a question to start them talking and then sat back while they filled in the details, Hardison and Sophie talking over each other to convey all of the information and their impressions. Every now and then they would prompt Parker and she would succinctly answer but without the same degree of excitement that he would usually expect of her. Throughout he also watched Eliot, checking that he was alright. He could almost see vibrations in the air around Eliot as the younger man was clearly fretting about something.

"So I think we could do it, you know, if Parker set up an exit for us, Hardison and I could easily manage on the inside and have you and Eliot on comms to co-ordinate and get the vehicles ready for getting away afterwards," Sophie finished.

"You've put a good case there. Does anyone else have anything to add?" Nathan asked, trying to ensure he gave enough attention to be honest and to consider anything the others may have missed, but he found himself being distracted by the white knuckled grip that Eliot had got on the table, by how he'd gone from paling to absolutely ashen in a matter of minutes.

Just as Hardison started to speak, Eliot suddenly pushed back from the table and started for the door. Nathan stood and was following him, as the others all stood anxiously too, the scene too reminiscent of Eliot's collapse. Eliot shrugged off Nathan's attempt to stop him and rushed towards his own office, shutting the door firmly behind him, cutting himself off from them all.

Nathan reluctantly returned to the conference room where he was immediately assaulted with questions from Sophie and Hardison, questions he didn't have answers for. Gradually they quietened and everyone sat down again. "Is it because I suggested he stay outside?" Sophie enquired.

"In truth, I doubt that it's any _one_ thing. You're right though, he's in no position at this time to be doing anything physical," Nathan confirmed.

"He's better though?" Parker's question was hesitant and she wouldn't meet Nathan's eyes.

"He's getting better, yes. He's going to need time to get over this properly, really recover and we will need to make allowances for that in the jobs we take on in the immediate future." Nathan paused, not sure what else he could say. "Eliot's doing well, he'll be back on form before long."

"No he won't." All eyes turned surprised to see Eliot framed in the doorway. "He can't be relied on. _I_ can't be relied on. _You_ can't rely on me. I'm leaving, then you can replace me, get someone you can rely on." He turned away before they could protest, pulling the door closed behind him and heading for the elevator.

Nathan was out of his seat in pursuit before the others had even finished registering Eliot's words. He left the room with the command that the others stay there. He caught up with him in front of the elevator, thankful that it was taking so long for it to arrive at their floor. "Stop! You don't get to leave like this," his voice was quiet but firm.

Eliot nodded, his expression thoughtful. His eyes came up to meet Nathan's and his teeth were worrying at his lower lip. "I have to do this, Nate." One hand lifted to rest on Nathan's chest and he stepped closer before he continued to speak. "You said it before, I've never had a proper job, I've never lived in the real world. How can any of it be right? You deserve better. I'm living in – in a . . . I don't know what I'm living in, but it's not real. You and me and this and we act like nothing overlaps, nothing affects anything else. If it wasn't me, if it was someone – someone different, you think you'd feel the same about making allowances and relying on them."

"I know what you're saying. I understand. We don't have to keep this thing between us secret if you don't want to." Nathan was grateful that he had closed the outside office door behind him, that the others were giving him space to try and reason with Eliot before he had the chance to out them both without them having already talked this through. "Eliot . . ."

"What?! No! That's not what I meant. I meant you – you're letting me – me . . . I'm a drug addict and you're saying it doesn't matter, everyone can still trust me. Get real, Nathan. You think if someone else was in this position you'd give them this. You're not thinking with your brain, Nate! At best you're thinking with your heart, man, maybe even lower and you can't do that, we're talking people's lives . . . it matters, Nate."

"Of course it matters. I trust you. You've got this under control, you're getting better every day, every day, Eliot. It's not going to happen again, I'm here to help you make sure of that."

"But you're not going to give the others chance to make their own choice on that. What happens when they find out, what happens when something happens on a job and I let you all down? What happens when they find out on a job and walk away because of me?"

"Then we tell them the truth if that happens. We tell them a doctor fucked it all up, a doctor told you to take them . . ."

"You don't think they'd care about that! Honestly Nate? You – you are some fucking knight in shining armor but that doesn't mean that everyone else feels the same way." Nathan just wanted to wrap his arms round and hold Eliot close, reassure him, promise him that he was wrong, that everything was going to be fine. He reached out for Eliot's arm and felt the tremors, saw as he looked into Eliot's eyes the distress combined with the now familiar dizzy light-headedness that was still racking Eliot with bouts of severe nausea.

"Sit, El. Sit down before it gets worse. Here's fine," he guided Eliot over so he could slide to the floor with the help of the wall's support. Eliot's complexion paled further and Nathan watched as he pulled his knees up and tilted his head down to rest on them. Nathan moved so that he could rub soft circles on Eliot's back as he murmured reassurances. The tension didn't seem to be easing, Eliot's body shuddering despite the quiet, despite him sitting down, despite Nathan's reassurances.

"We can get through this," he mumbled softly into Eliot's hair as he leant closer to him. Suddenly the quiet was interrupted by the ping of the elevator arriving and the doors opening. Nathan was relieved when Eliot made no attempt to move. The doors closed and the elevator moved away again and Eliot's hand shifted to wrap around Nathan's wrist, holding him still. "We can get through this," Nathan said again.

"I don't see how, Nate. I don't see how. I mean fuck, what if Parker tells them what she's seen? Why would she want to keep a secret for me?"

"Because she cares that you're okay and if telling would hurt you, then she won't."

"She can't even look at me, she's . . . she was doing anything to avoid even 'seeing' me."

"I'm surprised you noticed given how much of that you were doing too, El. I was watching you both, I saw what was happening and trust me, you two just need to talk a little and everything will be fine," Nathan hoped he was right.

A few minutes later, the quiet was broken again, this time by the ring of Nathan's cell phone. Reluctantly he pulled it from his pocket, looking at the caller before opening it, "Hello?"

There was no other sound and so Eliot could hear the exchange with Hardison. "Have you found him? I tried his cell phone but there's nothing, it's not even ringing." Nathan saw as Eliot began to pat at his own pockets, the first time since this all began that it had occurred to him that he hadn't got his phone.

"I've got him. We just need a little time and we'll come back. We're just outside the elevator. Could you – Would Parker bring out some water for us, please?" Hardison began to talk again but Nathan just cut him short swiftly saying, "Just Parker and just some water to drink, please Hardison. We'll talk more later, Eliot and I need to talk first though."

* * *

The office door opened moments later and Parker hesitated. Nathan looked up and smiled at her, beckoning her forward. She stepped slowly through and closed the door behind her then stopped again. Unlike before though, this time her eyes didn't leave Eliot as if she was waiting for something more to happen.

Eventually, Nathan broke the deadlock as he felt the tension coursing through Eliot and the way in which the younger man's breath was puffing in and out as if he was trying to control the nausea by sheer will alone. Turning to Parker, he said, "You've brought some water, that's great. I think that might be just what Eliot needs."

She held it out without coming any closer, until she saw the plea on Nathan's face. Then swallowing nervously, she stepped forward and dropped to sit cross-legged on the floor on the other side of Eliot. "I brought you water," she said quietly.

They could both see as Eliot visibly tried to pull himself together, forcing himself upright and turning to look at her. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Nathan decided that now was the time to nudge the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go. "Eliot and I were just talking about things that have happened. Our opinions differ on whether we can move past him having been ill, whether I am right to trust him in future. He thinks I should give up on him, that _we_ shouldn't want him back working with us." Nathan hadn't let his hold on Eliot slip, so he could feel how hard Eliot was finding it to stay still, to wait and hear what Parker would say. At the same time, his eyes were focussed on Parker and he could see her alarm that he was asking her to join the conversation, could see the fear and the same urge to run that he could feel in Eliot. "You know more than the others about Eliot being ill," Nathan added quietly, "unless you've told them any more . . ." he smiled leaving it open for her to interject.

"I've said nothing. I wouldn't," her voice was quiet and anxious.

"Do you think we should want Eliot back with us?" Nathan pressed gently.

"Nobody else does what Eliot does. We need someone to do that," she agreed.

"Someone . . . or Eliot?" Nathan asked, eyes gentle and encouraging.

"It depends on Eliot," she said. "If – if we can rely on him, then it should be him, but if he can't – if he can't be it then he should go."

"Is Eliot part of our family though, Parker? Does he have to manage this alone or can we help him?"

"I – I'm not good at this," she said shaking her head and starting to pull away from them both, only for Eliot's hand to capture hers in a firm but gentle hold. "Eliot!" she said shocked, tugging at her arm.

"Please, Parker," Eliot's voice was hoarse, emotion filled as he looked up. "Tell me . . . why haven't you told the others?"

"It's private!" she said defiantly. "If – if you . . . why? Why did you do it, Eliot?" the question was pleading.

"He told me to. Told me I needed them. I fucked up, put you all in danger. You shouldn't trust me. I fucked up." Parker's head tilted to one side as she listened to Eliot's words, her expression puzzled yet thoughtful.

Nathan stopped Eliot saying any more, filling in the bare details for Parker, knowing that later he would insist they investigated it further, but now wasn't the time. "Eliot had been seeing a doctor. The doctor gave him the pills, the doctor told him when to take them, how many. The doctor increased the dose, not Eliot."

Parker's eyes had narrowed, filled with hatred, before the emotion passed and was replaced by sympathy, she reached forward, her hand gently sweeping through Eliot's hair and swiping it back from his face. "I trust you, Eliot. I trust you to get well and protect me again." She moved forward and like a child lay her head on Eliot's shoulder, wrapping her arms round him but Nathan figured it said a lot about both of them as he saw Eliot's eyes fill with tears. "You're not like him," Parker said, turning her face towards Eliot's ear. "You're not like him, you're going to stop taking it and be well again, aren't you? You won't leave me like he did, Eliot."

Nathan knew Eliot had no idea what Parker was talking about, but saw as his lover's arms came up to protect the girl clinging to him, rocking her gently and letting his own hand stroke her hair as she sobbed into his neck. It was enough for now. Nathan let one of his own hands drop to rest on Parker's back, offering his own reassurance.

Parker calmed and in the way only Parker seemed able, bounded back to her feet, already tugging at both men trying to get Nathan to his feet. Nathan held his hand up in a gesture intended to calm her, turning his attention back to Eliot for a moment. "It's time for you to come back now, not time to pick up where we were but time to start over. We know we still need to leave some time for you to finish healing but we plan for it." As he finished speaking, he accepted Parker's pull on his arm to get him back up to his feet. Eliot started pushing himself up, refusing their help.

Parker hovered, hands hitching toward Eliot then back again as she clearly contemplated forcing her assistance on him. When he was up, Eliot gave a curt nod and headed for the door to Nathan's relief.

They headed back into the conference room, where Hardison and Sophie still waited. Both of them had clearly been waiting anxiously. Eliot's cheeks flushed in embarrassment, showing up clearly on his too pale skin, as he moved back to his seat. Nathan cleared his throat ready to speak, only to hear Eliot start, voice quiet, eyes down, but clearly determined. "I owe you an explanation . . . the two of you . . . Nathan knows it all, Parker enough, now you have to know, because whatever they've chosen doesn't change that you should know and choose too." He swallowed as all the people in the room focussed unerringly on him.

He gripped the table hard enough to turn his knuckles white as he began to speak, "I collapsed. . . When I collapsed . . . it was an overdose. It – It was unintentional but still . . . my fault. I had . . . reservations but I did it anyway. I've been going to see a doctor, he prescribed Vicodin for some issues I've been having. I – at first I refused to take it, but things changed and I - well I did take it and then on his advice I took more. It took time, it's been a while but it boils down to I've taken too much . . . turns out stopping isn't quite so easy."

There was a world of sympathy in Sophie's voice as she said, "Oh Eliot. Oh that's terrible."

"I'm . . . addicted to it, so you know I understand if you don't want me here, if you don't feel you can trust me anymore."

Hardison's eyes were cool, calculating as Eliot continued to stare at the table's edge. Parker spoke instead, shifting from her own chair and climbing on to the arm of Eliot's, somehow managing to get one of her legs either side of him, both balanced on the opposite arm to the one she had perched herself on, one hand resting on his shoulder as she stated, "He doesn't take it anymore, because he's getting better now. He's not going to take it any more and I trust him."

"Parker . . ." Eliot's voice was choked off and he just shook his head before falling silent again.

She patted his head affectionately before continuing, "I trust him!"

Nathan smiled across at her as he added, "As do I. Does anyone here have a problem with this?"

"Oh Eliot," Sophie's voice was filled again with pity. Eliot shuddered as Parker watched with confusion, as his head dropped lower, not meeting anyone's eyes. "Eliot, I wish we'd known, I wish we could have helped you. Is there anything you need?" Eliot gave a curt but hasty shake of his head, still not looking up. "All this time you've been in rehab, but Nate said you were at his."

"I was at his," Eliot said curtly. "I haven't been in rehab."

"But . . ." Sophie began, trying to piece it all together. "But Parker said you don't take it anymore? So if you haven't been in rehab . . ."

Nathan interrupted, before Eliot could try putting a bad spin on it, "He's clean. He's kicked it while staying at my place. Vicodin is no longer a problem, Eliot's going to stay clear of it and he's going to change doctors too. Later on, we're going to look into the _medical treatment_ he received."

"You can't just do that," Hardison said bluntly. "If it's bad enough to make him collapse, then you don't just decide to give up without going into rehab. Look at the state of him, you all honestly think you can trust him with your lives? Well, I don't. There's no way I'm going inside on any job with him watching my back, him keeping me safe. If the rest of you want to, that's your choice but not me. I don't have a death-wish right now."

Parker unraveled herself from round Eliot, eyes narrowed and glaring at Hardison, "You're the one who didn't turn up to a job because you were playing stupid games on your computer." Sophie gasped, surprised by the bitterness in the younger woman's words. "You're the one he saved when you sat on that bomb! Who's let us down more often? It's not him!"

Eliot had risen from the chair as she'd spoken, and now she was stood between him and Hardison, her hand reaching out to grasp his arm, determined not to let him go. He carefully unpeeled her fingers before stepping back a pace. "Stop Parker. It's okay, he's right. He has to be able to say what he feels and I've heard what I needed to."

"Eliot, no!" she cried, turning and throwing her arms around to hold on to him. Hardison looked away.

Sophie drew a breath then spoke, "Eliot, stay. We have faith in you, so that's four to one, you get to stay. We want you here."

"No, it's not enough. I fucked up, Hardison's right. I don't want to stay, not like this. . ." Eliot again started for the door, this time it was Nathan's voice that stopped him.

"Eliot, wait. There is more to consider, please sit down, at least until we've finished."

Eliot shook his head turning back and letting his eyes lift until they focussed intently on Nathan, "No Nate. It can't be like this. Please . . . let me go, don't make this any more difficult for everyone." With that, Eliot lifted his head and walked from the room.

Parker was on his heels, pausing long enough to almost spit the words, "We were supposed to be a team. You just want to spoil it all!" in Hardison's direction.

There was stunned silence in the conference room once she'd departed, slamming the door behind her. Nathan was unsure how to even begin to heal this rift. As much as he hated it, he did understand Hardison's point of view, Eliot had made sure of that. Eliot had ensured that Nathan fully understood exactly why he didn't expect the others to trust him. It didn't change the fact that Nathan thought he was wrong or that he agreed with Parker.

"Is Hardison right?" Sophie asked quietly.

"About what specifically? That people shouldn't try to detox themselves at home? Yeah, it's hell to do it like that, but Eliot did it anyway. It's going to take time for him to be really well but he's fighting it. He's taken the hard way to get off the Vicodin but things are getting better, he's getting stronger, healthier every day now."

"He looks like shit! You honestly think he's going to be any good for anything? He's fucked this up! Drugs, man! You don't mess with drugs!"

"Parker had a valid point there when she said about you letting us down, Hardison. Mistakes happen, we've all made them . . . as they go, there's only one person who's been really hurt by Eliot's mistake and one person only. We all forgave Sophie, you all still accept me and let's be honest I'm an alcoholic or had you forgotten that?"

"You don't drink any more. So that's different and besides that was alcohol, not drugs!" Hardison snapped.

"Self-inflicted then, not even prescribed. Why forgive me? Why say that doesn't matter when it went on for years and then not forgive Eliot this?"

"Eliot is supposed to have my back! Eliot is the one who's supposed to get us out of the mess when things go wrong! Have you looked at him lately? Hell, I could knock him out!"

Nathan was round the table in an instant, Hardison instantly standing and backing up towards the wall. "Who's supposed to plan it all, oversee it all, co-ordinate it? You accepted that when my brain was half way to pickled in alcohol, yet you won't accept us not taking on any jobs that need his _muscle_," Nathan almost sneered the word, "until he's well again. How the hell do you think he ended up in this position? Why do you think he's been taking on more jobs than he should? Fighting through and hiding pain instead of letting himself heal? He's done that to keep you safe, us all safe! _We_ are the ones who fucked up here, not him! You get that! We expected him to keep going regardless! I fucked up. I insisted on you all getting medicals, getting insurance, getting a proper doctor. He did all that and his _doctor_ made this mess. I wasn't going to say more until he was stronger, I wanted to talk about it with him here, hell I wanted to talk about it with just him first, but you aren't leaving me much option. This was not, are you really listening? It was _not_ Eliot's fault! The doctor he signed up with changed, was replaced somehow. The new one told him he needed the Vicodin, did tests and proved to him that something was the matter. I want to see those tests, see those results because I don't think any of it was true. The _doctor_ increased the amount he was taking and then the dosage he was taking. When Eliot tried to stop he couldn't."

Sophie's eyes were wide with horror, Hardison's face grim. "Why do you believe this?" he gritted.

"Because I've seen it with my own eyes, because Eliot has been trying to fix things for too long . . . The last three jobs he's said we needed to rethink, we needed to change our expectation of him and we didn't, we still expected him to do what we wanted. We've undermined him at every turn, acted as if he doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Like he's ever complained afterwards!" Hardison turned up his nose. "What's he got over you now, Nathan?"

"Nate's right," Sophie interjected. "Eliot's been telling us he can't keep up with the physical strain of what we've been asking of him. How can we judge when he's healed and ready for the next job? What right have we had to just expect that he will get hurt and bounce back ready for the next time? He was hurt when I messed everything up, badly hurt . . ."

"He was," Nathan agreed. "That was one of the reasons why when we restarted this – this operation, I insisted on the medical insurance. I didn't want any of us to not be able to get treatment if it was needed. With the current situation, I want to investigate the doctor he's been seeing, I want to find out about the clinic they sent him to and what they did to him there. I want to get him a decent doctor, one who'll look after him."

"You want all this for _him_. Why, Nathan? Why all of a sudden is he more important than the rest of the team?"

Before Nathan had chance to react, it was Sophie who answered first, her tone curt, "Isn't it about time that we made him _as_ important as the rest of us? It looks to me like we've completely disregarded his role in this team and so long as the rest of us were fine, everything was great! He's been there for us in every way that he can and so far . . . what's he asked of us? Let's be honest here, he's the one who talked Nate into rehab, he's the one who sat up with Parker when she was coming down from the job in the clinic. He didn't walk away and leave you in danger, Hardison . . . what have we done for him?"

"But that's his job! That's what he does!" Hardison insisted.

Nathan tried to clarify it further, "We're not denying that, Hardison. The difference is when he does this on his own, he will take as long as he needs to heal between jobs, but when he does it with us, he goes back in to protect us when we need him and yeah, he can be a lot more physical than the rest of us, he has taught himself to withstand a lot more pain than we can and he'll make sure that he takes the brunt of anything if it keeps us safe, that doesn't make it right, it doesn't mean that we should expect him to keep going like that nor that we shouldn't be looking out for him when he needs it."

Sophie spoke again, "We haven't ever given him the option of saying no." Her tone registered her own surprise at the realization. "He tried, that's what you're saying, Nate, he tried to say no for those jobs. We were so wrapped up in ourselves that we never noticed what was happening with him."

"Basically . . . yeah," Nathan agreed. Hardison remained quiet, frown still in place as he listened to the conversation.

* * *

Parker caught up with Eliot as he waited for the elevator to arrive. "It'll be alright, Eliot," she said quietly. "He'll see, he'll change his mind."

Eliot looked at her, a small smile playing on his lips. "It'll be alright, Parker," he echoed. "He doesn't have to change his mind. It's still going to be alright. I'm not going back to that, I won't go there again."

"We're supposed to be like family, aren't we?" she said, hand reaching out for him anxiously.

"_We are_ like family, Parker. You will always be my annoying little sister and anything you need from me, you say." The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside, not overly surprised when she joined him before the doors closed. "Sticking with me for the minute, huh? You can trust me, sweetheart. I'm not going looking for trouble of any kind and that includes Vicodin."

She stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms round his waist and burying her face into his shoulder. He brought his own arms round her, one holding her close, one stroking her hair. "I don't know why you did what you did for me, Parker, I don't get it at all, but thank you all the same."

"_He_ was in an accident, the doctor gave him Vicodin," she began quietly. "He used it like the doctor said and then he used more . . . more and more and more all the time. He wouldn't stop, he . . . he started seeing different doctors and then stealing for it and I mean . . . I know I steal stuff but not drugs, never drugs . . . and never to get drugs, not any kind or not like that." Eliot rubbed her back reassuringly. "It got real bad and then one day he decided to stop . . . I was going to leave so he decided to stop so I stayed and I helped him and it took a long time, we worked it all out, gradually he took less and less until he stopped and it was like with you and I hated it, I hated it, Eliot," she sobbed into his shoulder.

He murmured reassurances, holding her close. The elevator came to a halt on the first floor and the doors opened. Eliot was grateful that there was no one to watch them as they exited the elevator, crossed the entrance hall to the building and left through the doors, where he hailed a cab as she pulled herself together, wiping her eyes and tidying herself up. As they climbed into the cab, he suddenly paused unsure where to ask to be taken. He only had keys to Nathan's apartment on him and well . . . he wasn't sure that was the best place to go. He knew he owed both Nathan and Parker a huge debt, anything either of them wanted he would do his utmost to deliver but that didn't mean he still had a right to be at Nathan's apartment if he was no longer part of the team. He wasn't sure how Nathan would feel about their relationship now.

When the cabbie asked again where they wanted to be taken, Parker gave him a puzzled expression before reeling off Nathan's address. She didn't say anything but settled her head back against his shoulder and twining her fingers with his.

When the cab stopped at Nathan's apartment block, she dragged him out of the cab, barely leaving him the chance to pay before she was pulling him into the building and over to the elevator.

Inside, they sat down on the couch and she curled into his side, feet drawn up beside her. Then she began to talk again. "It didn't just happen once, he started again and again. I stuck by him, helped him but he kept going back to the Vicodin. I tried to stop him but . . ."

Eliot ran one hand through his hair and shuddered at the thought of facing the struggle he hoped he was just coming to the end of again. "I never want to go there again," he murmured.

"He did . . . then one day . . . one day he – I – I don't know why that day, but I came home and he'd taken everything, he was . . . cold, so cold and dead. He'd said he couldn't do it anymore. I don't know what else I could have done, Eliot, I never worked out what I did wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong, sweetheart. Some of us are just idiots all on our own, and don't know a good thing when it's in front of us," he reassured.

"You won't do that to Nathan, will you? You won't hurt him by going. In the cab, you didn't say here, like you weren't sure this is where you should have been going. You can't leave him like that, Eliot, you can't."

"Nathan has . . ." he started to say.

She interrupted, "He has you. That's what he wants now. You. He doesn't drink like before because he's got you, he doesn't get so bitter now and he was worried, he was really frightened you weren't going to make it. So you can't leave him not like that, Eliot."

"But it makes it all so difficult for him. I mean if I wasn't . . ."

"He'd be sad and lonely. He wants you here," Parker responded simply. "He's better with you." There was silence between them for a while before Parker shifted to look at him properly. "You should sleep for a bit, you're tired."

"I'm fine," he sighed. She huffed her disapproval and turned away from him. "I'm fine," he insisted, "I'm also resting here with you, even if I'm not sleeping."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5**_

It had taken an age longer than it should have done and he'd had to say far more than he wanted before he'd been able to get Hardison to back down and actually consider that maybe Eliot wasn't at fault. Now Nathan was on his way home and wondering how he was going to explain what he thought to Eliot and even worse that he'd already shared his thoughts with Sophie and Hardison. He let himself into the apartment and was met with quiet. Instantly a fear shot through him that maybe he should have followed Eliot earlier, maybe Eliot wasn't there.

Relief shot through him when he saw Parker sitting leaning back against the arm of the couch, hand sifting through Eliot's hair as he slept beside her. She looked up, eyes filled with sadness and Nathan moved across to her, standing beside her where she could lean her head against his leg. He let a hand fall onto her head as he asked quietly, "Are you okay?"

"Just sad," she said. "Eliot is too. He thinks he has to go."

"Go where?" She just shrugged in response and Nathan found himself letting her go and moving to drop down onto the couch beside Eliot.

"I'm going now," she said. "I have other things to do." She pulled herself out from under Eliot with an ease that surprised Nathan. Something he'd never truly mastered was managing to easily extract himself from any sort of close contact without waking Eliot, yet Parker didn't seem to take any special care when moving, but Eliot hadn't even stirred.

"You two need to talk," she said simply as she walked towards the door, "Tell him I said goodbye and I'll see him soon."

"Bye Parker," Nathan said warmly, waiting for her to leave and close the door behind herself, before he kicked off his shoes, removed his jacket and laid himself alongside Eliot on the couch, the younger man in his arms. He felt the instant shift in consciousness and murmured, "Shh, Eliot, it's just me, rest," until Eliot seemed to relax against him again.

He found himself drifting towards sleep before long, drowsing in a half-conscious state and jerking awake when Eliot began to extricate himself from the enclosed position on the couch. Eliot's face was grim as he positioned himself as far from Nathan as possible. Nathan took a few deep breaths hoping the oxygen would waken his brain up enough for the conversation that was ahead of them.

Eliot cleared his throat, then said, "Parker said you still wanted me here."

Nathan raised his eyebrows, unsure whether he was more surprised by Parker's insight or the fact that Eliot had doubted it. "I do," he said simply. "I want you here."

"Right." Eliot looked away, clearly feeling awkward, "Just I figured maybe it would make things difficult, you know, me not being part of the team anymore . . . or maybe _more_ difficult."

"Eliot," Nathan's voice held a note of warning.

"No, I mean. It was difficult before when we were just keeping this to ourselves, but if I'm not even working with you any more then what reason is there for me to be around."

Nathan found himself reaching across the couch to meld their bodies together, sure that both of them needed the comfort now. "You are still working with us, Hardison changed his mind. Wait!" he snapped urgently as Eliot began to pull away. "We need to talk about this, but I didn't pressure him, he just listened to a few things that needed to be said, some things that we need to talk about as well. We - I also think we shouldn't keep this a secret anymore either . . . This isn't some dirty secret, Eliot, we have nothing to hide." He hadn't expected to see Eliot shrink, curling smaller, looking younger and more vulnerable. "I want to be with you, Eliot. The rest is up to you, do you want to be with me now?"

Eliot gave a short sharp nod, his voice lost in a welter of emotions, hands gripped in his lap, knuckles white. "So, telling everyone, do you have an opinion on that?"

"Yes," he said, eyes not lifting.

Nathan waited for more, but it didn't come. "Yes, you have an opinion or yes we should tell everyone. Eliot, you've got to talk to me, we've got to work through this."

Eliot nodded, closed his eyes and spoke, "I want to be with you now, I – I don't know about forever, but – but . . . I want to be with you. I get it that we – we have to tell people, but I don't want to mess up, Nate. I don't want to mess this up or the rest for you."

Nathan smiled, moving closer again. "Now is enough to start. Forever is a long way away and we still have things to iron out. You aren't going to mess this up, this or anything else, not if you trust 'us'. Hell, if there's one thing I learnt from my wife it was that talking fixed a lot of problems, or at least it did until Sam got sick. You and me, Eliot, we've not been good at talking so far, we've got by, we need to be better, both of us. _We_ need to be honest with each other, honest if there's a problem, honest if we need something from each other." Nathan shifted, relieved as Eliot settled down against him again. "We need to be able to talk about my drinking and your drugs. We are both addicts, so there are going to be times when we want it badly, that's what they said in that rehab place I went to. We're going to need to decide how to deal with that, plan for it."

"I don't . . . I don't want to go through this again."

Nathan leant forward to kiss Eliot's forehead, "Believe it or not, right now, I don't either. I don't want either of us to go through any of it again, but there's going to be a point, there's going to come a trigger that means we'll have to face the temptation again, when I get lonely or stressed, when I'm thinking of Sam or something's happened to you, then I will want a drink and I have to have a plan for dealing with that and . . . and I want you to be part of that plan for now." Eliot nodded acceptance of the request, running his thumb over Nathan's fingers gently. Nathan began again, "There's going to come a day when you'll be tempted too, El. Maybe you'll have been hurt and you'll think it's the only answer, maybe there'll be a different trigger, I don't know." He stopped Eliot from interrupting. "One day, it could happen, Eliot and we need to have a plan so that you're okay if it does happen."

Eliot sighed, "We can make the plan, but I'm not giving in. I'm not. We don't really need it." Nathan was willing to accept that much; have the plan as a fall back that they would never need. He was willing also to pray that it would be that easy.

* * *

"So you're willing to believe this?" Hardison said to Sophie. "Really believe that Eliot had no idea and just went along with this doctor because it sounded like a good idea! This is Eliot we're talking about . . . the same Eliot."

"I understand what you're saying," she replied. "But think about all of the things that Nathan said. Eliot's only experience with doctors has been through what he could afford to pay for in hospitals when things have been really bad. He had only seen a doctor a few times as a child, he's got no reference to be able to tell what 'normal' is. So he signs up with what seems like a nice guy and then for some reason that he doesn't know, the guy disappears and he's presented with a replacement, who he doesn't like but he's not expecting to spend much time with him. As far as Eliot is concerned this is all formality, but then the insurance insist on full medical work-ups, because Nathan insists on everyone having the top range insurance package, but Eliot has no idea what a full medical work-up is. I agree with Nathan, there is something wrong, something out of sorts with this. It's a job, we need to find out whether they're doing this to other people. In all honesty, I can't see what they get out of it, but it's wrong."

"You don't think that Eliot . . . Eliot has Nathan fooled."

"I don't."

* * *

"So, when you're strong enough, I want us to investigate this properly. I want to find out who the doctor was, what the clinic was really doing."

"Supposing you find out I was just stupid?"

Nathan stepped up behind Eliot as he stood at the apartment window looking out at the lights shining across the city lighting up the night sky, wrapping his arms around Eliot's waist. "That is not going to happen. Okay, Eliot, you have to accept this, even if you were wrong to accept what he told you, even if you should have questioned more or refused to do what he said, the doctor was still wrong, _more_ wrong than you. Doctors are responsible for their patients, it is incumbent upon them to make sure their patients understand what's happening and why. They also have to follow guidelines, rules for what they can prescribe, how they can treat their patients."

Eliot shook his head. Nathan leant in closer and said, "You have to forgive yourself for what happened. You've learnt, you're not going to let it happen again, you're stronger now."

* * *

The team without Eliot cleared two more simple jobs before Nathan even considered turning their attention back to Eliot's doctor and Nathan was more concerned about what they were going to find when they'd finished digging. Eliot was recovering steadily but seemed reluctant to leave the apartment other than to go walking with Nathan and avoided having to interact with anyone else at all.

When Eliot had returned to his own apartment, he'd found letters from the doctor, letters that demanded his attendance at both the clinic and the practice, letters telling him there were filled prescriptions waiting for him to collect, letters demanding that he contact the doctor as well as several deliveries of full bottles of Vicodin. Nathan was glad he'd been there at the time as Eliot had gone quiet as he'd read them all. The color had drained from him as he'd read the one about the clinic. Nathan knew then that Eliot hadn't told him everything that had happened at the clinic.

"We're going home," Nathan said, collecting up the letters into a bundle and pushing Eliot gently in the direction of his bedroom. "Go pack up what you need." He followed a few paces behind adding, "I figure that if you'd like it, you know, maybe, we don't need two apartments anymore. Everyone knows about us, so we could save on rent, you know."

Eliot turned back, a slightly shaky smile on his face, "You want me to move in with you?!"

"Huh! I guess so."

"Are – are you sure? I mean it's not like we really need to worry about the money for the rent for two places."

"Yeah, but you haven't been living here in like two months, it's over three weeks since we last stopped by for mail and stuff, you've kind of already moved in with me, and . . ." Nathan flushed, cheeks tinged with embarrassment, not quite able to meet Eliot's eyes as he finished, "And I kind of like having you there."

"Oh!"

"Oh? That's all you've got! Oh!" Nathan snapped, suddenly feeling very vulnerable after his admission and expecting something more enthusiastic by way of response from Eliot.

"Um . . . like you said, I guess I kind of already have moved in . . . I guess I kind of like it too. Can I . . . can I bring my kitchen stuff?" Eliot moved closer, sidling into Nathan's space and hesitantly taking Nathan's hand. "You really want this, for real? I mean, if I let the apartment go, where do I . . .?"

"You don't go, you stay. That's the point, Eliot, it becomes _our_ apartment."

Eliot nodded, then swallowed before turning to Nathan and looking him in the eyes, he began to talk, "You have to know something . . ." Nathan waited, silently as Eliot took a deep breath before starting to talk again. "This – this is my first home," Eliot gestured round him. "It's the first place I've stayed for any length of time, the first place I've tried to do anything to make it mine, ever . . . I never had a real home as a kid. My mom was forever getting thrown out of places we lived, the foster homes never lasted long so this . . . this was . . ." Eliot fell silent, words escaping his grasp.

"This was special, this was home," Nathan finished for him. "But now you're going to have a new home _with_ me and you can add to it and buy things for it and we can decorate and you can bring your kitchen stuff and your . . . hell you can bring anything you like and we make _our_ home special and it'll be good, El. It'll be good, I promise."

Eliot nodded, clearly choked with emotion. "I can't believe how much shit we've gone through and this comes out of it. I should pack then." He started to turn away, but then paused and turned back, moving in to kiss Nathan. "Guess it means sex more often too," he said with a quick attempt at a sexy pout before flushing with embarrassment as Nathan laughed.

Nathan caught his arm, pulling him back for a slower kiss. "It sounds good and while we're on the subject . . . It amazes me how embarrassed you get when you suggest sex! I would never have thought that of you, but I kind of like it," he finished with another kiss. "Oh and you don't need to pack everything now. Let's just get what we need and then we can come back and pack up the rest properly, we can make space at ours, work out where everything is going to go."

* * *

Nathan was sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee trying to dredge up enough energy to be 'awake' when the phone rang.

Nights were difficult. Eliot's sleep was still erratic at worst and restless at best. Nathan had no idea what time Eliot had actually fallen asleep, but he knew for a fact that he'd still been awake at three when Nathan had woken briefly, disturbed by Eliot's absence from the bed. He knew how hard Eliot tried to lie still and at least rest while Nathan was sleeping but some nights he couldn't even do that and would wander the apartment. Nathan had woken to find him baking, redecorating the guest room, ironing shirts and on particularly bad nights Nathan had found him drenched in sweat having spent hours doing sit ups and press ups, desperate to rid his muscles of the frenetic burn within that stopped him sleeping.

Eliot was asleep now and Nathan had left him in peace when he'd woken, pleased to see him not just asleep but apparently completely relaxed as well. Nathan had quietly got up and left the room.

He picked up the phone, glancing at the Caller ID before answering, "Hardison, you're calling early. What can I do for you?"

"I've been on that research . . . Eliot's doctor and the clinic . . . we need to meet, to talk about this. You were right, it's suspicious . . . hell, it's downright freakin' twisted. From what I've seen, it's a set-up. A set-up aimed at Eliot."

"I'll go wake him up and we'll meet you at the office in . . . say forty five minutes. I'll call Parker and Sophie too."

"No! Nate, no. Look maybe . . . maybe you and I should review this first, before . . . before Eliot sees it . . . Nate . . . and maybe the girls shouldn't."

"What have you found, Hardison?" Nathan's voice was grim, unforgiving.

"Come in to the office, Nate, the phone is not the place for this conversation."

* * *

As Nathan entered the office he wasn't convinced that he was doing the right thing. Leaving Parker and Sophie out of the investigation for the moment was one thing, but he couldn't help but feel wrong about leaving Eliot at home asleep.

He made his way straight to Hardison's room, knocking sharply and walking straight in, closing the door behind him. "What have you found?" he asked, cutting straight to the chase.

"Sit down," Hardison said quietly, his usual demeanor subdued and his eyes rising to meet Nathan's before dropping again to look at the table where he was shuffling the papers in front him and re-arranging them. He stopped, seemed to make a decision, then hurriedly passed the first to Nathan. "This is the original doctor. That's the replacement one."

Nathan cast his eyes over the first sheet, taking in a picture of an elderly man with details of his medical training listed below, finishing at the base of the page with his current status listed as ill and unable to work, before turning his attention to the second which Hardison was holding out. The second showed a middle aged man, severe looking, again there were details of his medical training but the final entries in the first block of information showed that he had lost his license in two states. A second list showed a series of complaints and infractions, all of which had presumably led to the loss of his medical registration.

"He's not registered? Then . . . then how?" Nathan was almost speechless with the thought. "The other patients?"

"He is still licensed here. I can't be sure, it doesn't look like anything untoward is going on in the practise as a whole, most of the patients of this original guy were pretty old, they've been with him for years. He's just continued with prescriptions that had been long-standing, the majority of stuff he's prescribing are antibiotics, anti-inflammatories, asthma stuff, heart medication, a few painkillers but nothing like the quantities he's been giving Eliot. I can't be sure, I mean I don't really know much, but I've run some comparisons and Eliot's and two others stand out as being distinctly odd from a similar size practise that I compared the prescriptions to. The other two were existing patients and he hasn't changed their drug regime, so if it's wrong, it's the other guy that got it wrong first. I did some checking on their scripts and although they're unusual, they are typical for particular conditions."

"You've hacked in to two separate practises?"

"Well, um, actually it was more than that, I guess, you know to get a real comparison. There wasn't any other way to get the information we needed, or not any quick way."

Nathan shook his head in disbelief, "And I thought medical stuff was supposed to be unassailable." Hardison actually did look slightly embarrassed at the revelation. "Okay, so what else can you tell me?"

"I – I checked everyone else's doctors too, just to be safe, no one else has a doctor who's in any way suspicious, they're all completely above board. Sophie, you and me, we've had the doctors long before Leverage, everything's fine, nothing suspicious. Parker, she got a new doctor too, when you said, but she's gone to the same practise as Sophie, different doctor but again one that's been there, been above board for a long time, so it's only Eliot's that is anyway weird."

"Good. So what we're down to now is one doctor who lost his license in some states replacing a legitimate doctor, treating one of us and the treatment being . . ."

"I lifted Eliot's records, except it was strange I managed to find two sets . . . he's listed as Eliot Spencer and Spencer Eliot, almost the same date of birth, same _condition_, almost the same address, same treatment . . . the thing is as simple as it sounds, it's just enough to fool the average computer check. You'd need to be looking for discrepancies, you'd need to be looking for something like this. When you brought me the empty containers I noticed that some said Spencer Eliot and others said Eliot Spencer – it's just enough that you wouldn't notice the difference because you'd assume that some pharmacists listed it surname then first name without realizing what was happening, except then I realized some of the packets were from the same pharmacist so there was no reason for the two different names from one place. The date of birth same month, same day, but the year is one different on the two sets of records, just enough that Eliot might assume it was an unimportant typing error or not even notice."

"This is very definitely deliberate then?" Nathan asked.

"Yeah, definitely. The practise does do a few drug collections for patients, but all of the other patients are elderly and unable to get out easily. Why would Eliot need drug collection? Why wouldn't he just get the script himself?"

"He does . . . we had some leftover scripts that he hadn't filled!" Nathan insisted.

"In which case, somehow that doctor is managing to claim two sets of prescriptions for Eliot himself and give him a prescription as well. Fuck, this guy is smooth."

"You manage to find anything about the clinic?"

Hardison's expression was grim, "You're not going to like this." Nathan just told him to get on with it. "Okay, the clinic definitely isn't legit. In fact there is no clinic. It's referenced throughout Eliot's notes, letters of referral, letters asking for treatment, letters received outlining treatment delivered, suggested courses of actions and call backs. No other patient at that practise has _ever_ been referred to this clinic. So I checked the clinic, it does not exist in any legitimate government accepted medical way. I checked the building's listing. It's currently listed as office and storage space, last use was for a company dealing in gym equipment, currently rented by a Mikhail Polerentov, use not listed _officially_. I did a drive by, took some photos." Hardison pushed some photos across to Nathan. There was nothing impressive about the building, nothing that really drew it to the attention of a passerby. "We could do with a closer look, but . . . I wasn't even going to try that."

Nathan nodded, "We don't want any extra risks at this stage, but . . ." He took a deep breath, "Were you able to find out anything about what they tested Eliot for?"

Hardison pushed another set of papers across the table. "It doesn't make for good reading," he said.

Nathan scanned the papers, trying to find something that made any sense to him. He found lists of tests and results but had no idea what the tests were or what they showed, the figures after each giving no idea whether it was reassuring or frightening, no idea of what the 'norm' should be. He could easily imagine Eliot's reaction to being presented with the figures and being told what they 'proved'. He remembered the jargon and terminologies that he'd faced when Sam was ill and how unnerving it was even at first when they'd thought the doctors could help, let alone when the prognosis deteriorated.

A few of the tests had vaguely useful names, "Pain tolerance", "Thyroid Function" but others just had names like "Burmann test" and "Rebak Norm". Nathan sighed, "Do we know what any of this means?"

Hardison shrugged. "Some of it. I found stuff on the net about pain tolerance and thyroid, doctors do test for them, but I can't work out why specifically they'd be testing for the second of those in Eliot's case. I found stuff about a Burmann Test but it was a Plackett-Burmann test and it didn't look like it was medical and a Rebak Norm – no idea, couldn't find anything for that at all. It went on like that with half of them, some of them appear to just be names and random numbers. They could have 'used' them to prove anything and Eliot wouldn't have known any different."

Nathan rubbed his hand over his face, stress and weariness laying heavy on him. "Okay . . . right, where from here? . . . First I guess I need to talk to Eliot about this and I need to get him to a 'real' doctor, make sure that there's no lasting damage. We need to know more about this clinic and we're going to have to work out how to collect that information. Find out as much as you can about the surrounding area, what other buildings are nearby, busy times, quiet times, all the usual. Okay . . ." Nathan sighed again. "We'll keep it like that for now, I'll talk to Eliot, you see what you can find out about the area so that then we can plan how to find out more about the inside of that clinic and we just keep quiet in front of the girls for now until we've got something specific they can do."

"Nate . . ." Hardison waited until he was sure he had Nathan's full attention again. "You need to see these as well." He pushed another set of photos across the table.

Nathan picked them up and turned them over one at a time, growing horror on his features as he saw Eliot 'undergoing tests' in the clinic. The pictures showed Eliot tied to a table with weights placed over his chest, Eliot, barely conscious, suspended from a wall with thick bands of leather wrapped around his chest, his hands hanging lose beside him and his toes barely scraping the ground, Eliot connected to wires that looked like they could carry an electrical charge. He slammed the photos down again, closing his eyes as if it would wipe the memory of what he'd seen away.

"They were emailed and then listed with his doctor's notes. I couldn't find anything similar for any other patient. I really think that in some way _this_ is personal. They wanted to do this to Eliot." As Hardison finished speaking, Nathan couldn't really do anything but agree.

"I'm going home, I have to talk to Eliot." Nathan pushed back his chair and started to head for the door, a few of the photos clutched in his hand. "Nobody . . . you hear me? Nobody sees this . . .!" He shut the door behind him and left the office, heading straight for the car and his apartment.

Hardison figured he was pretty relieved not to have to be present when Eliot and Nathan 'discussed' those photos.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6**_

Nathan had not exactly calmed down on the drive home, despite lengthening the journey by a solid hour. He had, however, at least managed to give the matter a little thought before he went rushing into the apartment and accusing Eliot of being stupid or of concealing what had happened. He'd convinced himself that that was going to be counter-productive and that at least in the short term, he was going to have to try and separate his emotions from the matter at hand.

He played it back and forth in his mind as the car crawled through the traffic, trying to come up with any rational explanation for what Eliot had allowed to happen. Even knowing that Eliot had little experience with real doctors who didn't just deal with random patients in an ER, Nathan didn't believe that he was stupid enough to think that this was real medical practice.

By the time he'd got his key in the lock, he was calmer and he'd also had the foresight to hide the photos in a file to carry it in. First he'd decided, he needed to give Eliot the opportunity to be honest, then . . . well then it all depended on what Eliot said really.

Key in the lock, he took a deep fortifying breath before pushing the door open and stepping inside to the smell of cooking. Tantalizing aromas came from the kitchen. Nathan sighed. For the first time since it all began, Eliot was in the kitchen cooking real _food_ and he was about to spoil it all by . . . Nope, it didn't matter how angry about it all Nathan was, the fact was Eliot _had_ been ill and now he was getting better and for the first time in an age he was cooking and hopefully that meant _he_ felt like eating properly, rather than picking at the food on his plate, so Nathan would wait until after they'd eaten.

Nathan crossed to the kitchen door where he leant against the frame watching as Eliot moved calmly round, stirring, tasting, adding just a touch of seasoning. Eliot looked round suddenly. "You're home!" he said, a hint of surprise in his voice. "It's not ready yet."

"That's okay," Nathan crossed the kitchen to kiss him. "I wasn't expecting this. It smells good, great in fact." He let his hand linger a little longer in the small of Eliot's back, feeling an unexpected tension. "How are you feeling?" he added before stepping back.

"Fine," the answer was a little sharp, but Eliot softened it with a slightly guilty smile. "Sorry, preoccupied."

"So tell me honestly then."

"I just . . . I want this to be good, I – I owe you and . . ." Eliot began to say.

"No – no, El. No talk of owing me anything, but I'm pleased you're cooking, I love it when you do," Nathan reassured.

* * *

The food when Eliot had served it had been delicious and Nathan realized how much he'd missed Eliot's cooking in the time he'd been ill. "This. . ." he said, swallowing the food in his mouth and gesturing toward his plate with his fork, "This is amazing. I seriously don't know how you do it, but, God, it's good!" He smiled as Eliot's cheeks reddened, eyes dropping down in embarrassment.

Nathan tucked into his food enthusiastically, not losing track of how Eliot was faring. Not as well as he had hoped, not as bad as it had been. When they'd finished, Eliot cleared the plates, carrying them into the kitchen with Nathan following behind him. As Eliot had washed, Nathan had dried the dishes and packed them away and it hadn't taken long for them to finish and head for the couch together.

They sat quietly for a while, Eliot's head in Nathan's lap, a position that had become so familiar over the last few weeks, Nathan's fingers tangled into Eliot's hair, rubbing soothingly against his scalp. "So . . ." Nathan began.

"You were gone when I woke up, you were gone for . . . Sorry," Eliot apologized.

"I went to see Hardison about some work," Nathan kept his voice neutral, torn between the need to deal with the situation and the desire to let this moment last for as long as possible.

"Anything important?" Eliot pressed.

"Possibly." Nathan admitted to himself things were only going to get worse if he kept this up, it would be better to get started, because things certainly weren't getting any easier. "El . . . Eliot, I want you to tell me about the clinic you went to, the tests and everything."

"No," was Eliot's simple, calm reply. "I fucked up, you know that." He started to pull away but Nathan held him back, keeping him close.

"No, Eliot. We _have_ to talk about this. This is not about you fucking up, I want you to tell me what _tests_ they did on you. What did they do? What was it supposed to show?" Nathan remained firm.

Eliot pulled himself upright sharply, breaking contact with Nathan, but not leaving the couch, for which Nathan was thankful. He was chewing on his lip thoughtfully before answering. "I don't know what you want me to say, Nate. You've already told me that I should have known that the doctor was . . . why think anything the clinic said was any better?"

Nathan moved off the couch himself, kneeling on the floor in front of Eliot and taking hold of his hands. "No, El. There was never a 'should have known', because that would mean you did something wrong. You were misled, mistreated, I wish you had realized what was happening, really understood so it hadn't happened, but I'm going to tell you something. If you had known that this was wrong, they would have found another way to do this to you." Eliot's eyes snapped up to look at Nathan, confusion clear. "They had targeted you," Nathan finished quietly, "They did this to hurt _you_."

"Why?"

"That's why I want to know what they did to you and what you can tell me about them, let's try and work it out."

Nathan was surprised when Eliot surrendered without further objection and began to talk. "They started with stuff that seemed normal or . . . or I thought it was. They took blood, I had to give a sample, you know . . ." Eliot looked embarrassed again and Nathan just gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "They took some x-rays and then they made me run on a treadmill with . . . with these pads attached. They were stuck to my . . . my chest, my head, my arms and . . . and my legs and I ran and it seemed ok, but the machine kept beeping and they said . . ." He took another deep breath. "They said the results from the blood and urine test showed a problem. They gave me this drink, it was disgusting, like really sickly sweet. Then I had to go back on the treadmill for a few minutes before they took another blood test and everything."

Eliot swallowed nervously, hands fidgeting, eyes wandering, although he barely paused in retelling the events. "Then I was back on the treadmill again, but it began to change, I was finding it harder. I used to be fit enough to have stayed on there much longer but . . ." Nathan rubbed one hand up Eliot's arm in reassurance, but remained silent as Eliot continued. "I was finding it harder, harder to keep going and I kept feeling these surges of pain in different muscles. I tried to rip the pads off that they'd attached, it was like being electrocuted. I know – I know what that feels like and it felt kind of like it but not really as strong as that can be, enough to hurt but . . . but they told me it wasn't that. It was a sign of the problem; they said there was no electricity, just the pain caused by the muscles showing that they were in need of whatever they were giving me. I – I wasn't sure, I mean . . . if it had been electrocution, it would have been even worse, right? If it was _just_ torture, they'd have wanted to know something, there'd have been questions, the shocks would have got worse, but they didn't. It just went on and on and on. No questions, no getting worse, until I just couldn't run anymore."

Nathan realized that Eliot had a good point, if someone had wanted Eliot, they should have wanted him for a reason, they should have wanted to know something, there should have been questions, unless . . . "What happened after that, Eliot?" Nathan thought again of some of the photos he'd seen and wondered if there was another reason for wanting to hurt Eliot.

"They did more tests . . ." Eliot answered quietly. Nathan was in no doubt as to how much trust it was taking for Eliot to be as honest as he'd been so far, yet he also knew they'd barely scraped the surface of what had happened.

Eliot looked at him, soulful eyes pleading, but Nathan knew they couldn't leave it there or what was still to come would hurt more. "Please El," he murmured.

Eliot nodded, "They had to move me, I couldn't even stand up. They put me on a table and told me to rest. They were going to test my breathing capacity. They had me breathe into this machine while I was laid on my back, then gradually they put these weights onto my chest. It was slow, just a little uncomfortable at first, but gradually it got more difficult, more painful. I couldn't make them stop though and while they were doing it . . ." Nathan could see that despite the calm way in which Eliot spoke, the younger man was reliving an episode that had been terrifying. "I realized that the strange feeling I'd had before in my body had got worse, a lot worse and – and so now I couldn't move at all, like something was stopping me moving at all . . . I couldn't even twitch a finger. Not just because of the weight, but everything had gone numb. I began to get . . ." Eliot looked away, biting his lip. There was a heavy silence until he finally said, "I was frightened, I thought I was going to die, I couldn't . . . it was like I'd got not control over anything, I couldn't even swallow, I could feel myself starting to choke. They . . . they stepped in and stopped it at the last minute, saved me."

His voice was quiet and Nathan could feel tremors running through him, but he wasn't giving in. Nathan leant forward and kissed his temple. "Nate – Nate, there were other – other _tests_ but I was hurting, I was hurting so much and I don't know what they were doing or what they were supposed to be finding out and – and I don't remember all of what they did, it's all blurred and messed up. Sometimes I think I lost consciousness because I'd wake up and I was sure something different was happening to what I last remembered and sometimes it's just . . . just a confused mess." He shook himself free of Nathan's grip and stood up, pacing the length of the room before stopping, leaning against the back of the couch looking over at Nathan. "It – it was like . . . like . . . Fuck! It was like being _tortured_! It _was_ like being tortured!" He pushed away again, striding into the kitchen banging the door behind him.

Nathan sighed, unsure whether to follow Eliot or whether to leave him for a few minutes to calm down and collect himself. He didn't want to put him under any more pressure when his pain was clear. He pushed himself up from the floor and dropped onto the couch to think and listen as he heard Eliot banging and slamming doors on the kitchen cupboards. Gradually the loud noises subsided and Nathan could hear the kind of movements he normally associated with Eliot in the kitchen. A while after that, the smell of baking began to pervade the apartment. Nathan smiled; it seemed he'd made the right judgement call for once.

A little over thirty minutes later, the kitchen door opened and Eliot appeared carrying two mugs of coffee in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other. He crossed the room and placed the plate and cups on the coffee table before sitting down next to Nathan. He reached for one of Nathan's hands and once their fingers were entwined, he said, "Sorry."

Nathan smiled, used their connected hands to pull him closer for a lingering kiss before saying, "No need to be sorry. You have every right to . . ."

"Nate . . . I've been thinking . . . You weren't surprised by anything I said . . . you already knew . . . "

"Yeah, some of it, not all and it was more the idea of what happened than what you'd have actually felt . . . but I wanted you to have the opportunity to tell me. Hardison called this morning. I asked him to look into your doctor. . . well everyone's actually but yours urgently and he turned up a whole lot more than I ever expected."

"What do you know?"

"Your doctor, he lost his licence in two states, but not this one. He's set you up, I don't know why, but _you_ were targeted for this. The clinic he's been sending you to doesn't exist. Hardison hacked your files and we tried to find out more about what he'd told you . . ."

"Oh," Eliot fidgeted nervously.

"Eliot, Hardison found photos of you undergoing some of those tests that you were telling me about. We looked at the results that the doctor showed you, some of the tests were genuine, we don't know about the results. Some of the tests _were_ genuine, El, but a load of them weren't."

Eliot rubbed a hand over his face and Nathan slipped an arm round his shoulders, pulling him closer. "Your coffee is going cold," Eliot muttered.

"Don't care about the coffee, I care about how you're doing!"

"Why? Why would a doctor do this stuff?"

"The other possibility is that it's somebody from the clinic that is behind it all."

Eliot looked up in confusion, "The clinic?"

"Maybe somebody is behind that who wanted to get at you for some reason and somehow they were able to convince the doctor to help or maybe they planted the doctor. I mean you said he's not the one you saw originally and with him having lost his licence in two states, maybe the takeover is not as legitimate as it seems. As for the clinic, the lease for it is fairly recent. The name was . . . shit . . . it was Polotov, Polentov . . . Mikhail . . ."

"Polerentov," Eliot said. "Mikhail Polerentov . . ." Eliot fell silent, head down, body tense as Nathan agreed with the name. There was quiet for a few minutes before Eliot began to explain, "He's the second son of a warlord I helped take down . . . His father's in prison, his older brother's dead and he's on the run from their government!" His eyes were closed, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"It's over now, Eliot."

"No . . . no it's really not." Eliot sounded utterly exhausted when he added quietly, "I can't fight them now, Nate, not as well."

"It's going to be okay, I'll make sure of it . . . If he's on the run from a government then we make sure they find him . . . discreetly of course."

Eliot shook his head, "You don't get it . . . they can find me, they know where I live, they know where I work . . . "

Nathan understood what he was saying, but was determined that Eliot was not going to admit defeat. "Firstly, they know where you _lived_, not where you live. Secondly, they know where you work, so we can move . . . we've done it before. It's not like we're working with clean slates here, El, we're going to have to get used to moving. If we're doing our job properly, we're going to be pissing a hell of a lot of people off at the same time as making others really happy."

"But . . ."

"No. Anyway, if we take down this guy, get him shipped back to the pit he belongs in, no doubt at least half of his cronies will end up vanishing back into the woodwork or being arrested and dragged back with him. I'll take care of it for now; you stick with concentrating on getting well. Just . . . what was the job that brought you up against him in the first place?"

"It was about three years ago. His father was shipping arms through small villages, forcing kids and women to smuggle them. The men of the villages were either off fighting in the war or he had already killed them. Then under threat of rape and mutilation, he forced the women and children to smuggle stuff for him and . . . and to make sure they did, he'd . . . he'd prove his threats, firstly with anyone who refused and then just to keep them all afraid, he'd pick one at random."

He rubbed his hands up and down his arms as if he was cold, seeming to draw in tighter upon himself, before he continued speaking, "I killed Sergei, the oldest of his sons. He'd raped girls in this one village, then they got word that the Government Army with troop reinforcements from the US were catching up with them. He . . . he picked these two little girls and he wired them each up to a bomb and he sent them to meet the army with a message. He had told them that if they did what he said, he'd let them go and he wouldn't hurt their older sister and mother anymore. They got to the soldiers, they delivered the message, the soldiers passed the message on and then . . . then the bastard detonated the bombs anyway and killed them and the soldiers." Eliot couldn't stop trembling as he recounted the traumatic memories. "I killed him . . . I fucking killed him, Nathan."

"Sssh, now, you did the right thing. I'm going to fix it all and then we can get on with our lives. It's okay." Eliot turned into Nathan's embrace, seeming to relish the warmth and security even as he tried to hold himself together in the face of memories he'd tried to bury so long ago.

He didn't stay still for long; even Nathan's presence couldn't rid him of the images in his mind, so he slid out from Nathan's arms with muttered apologies and headed deeper into the apartment. It wasn't long before Nathan heard the shower turn on. He let himself relax a fraction and thought about what Eliot had told him. They needed to plan this carefully . . . what he really needed to find was . . . the opposition, someone as bad as this guy who could be set up to look like the connection, the whistleblower. He needed someone that if the guy ever got out of jail or back into the country, he hadn't added to his list of grievances against Eliot.

Nathan called Hardison, quickly outlining what he was looking for, the sort of person he wanted Hardison to find. It was clear the situation didn't really make sense and that without more information Hardison probably wasn't really going to know who to look for. Nate resigned himself to another long chat with Eliot to convince him to help and to share the information about the past with Hardison.

This was the stuff nightmares were made of . . . and Nate already knew Eliot fought an ongoing battle with them. He also knew that Eliot wouldn't want anyone else to know about the past, it was the sort of thing that not only did Eliot believe should never be allowed to happen but that he thought should never be spoken about again. Over the time they had been together, Nathan had come to realize that there were many secrets Eliot kept, not purely for his own safety but because he'd seen such horrific things that he believed other people shouldn't live with those images in their minds. Nathan had been able to feel first-hand the quivering tension as he'd told his story.

The time was dragging on and the shower was still running; Nathan was getting worried. He hurried through to the bathroom, initially relieved to find the door unlocked when his knocking was ignored, until he opened the door to swathes of baking steam. "Geez, Eliot!" He rushed forward through the steam pulling the shower open sharply and hitting the controls to turn the searing water off before even contemplating dealing with Eliot. "Shit! Eliot, what the . . .!"

He pulled the younger man out of the shower, taking in his reddened skin as he pulled a towel from the rack and wrapped it around the broken man in front of him before guiding him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He sat Eliot on the edge of the bed before hunting out a t-shirt and boxers for him. He began to gently rub Eliot dry with the towel, taking the opportunity to carefully make sure that his skin was nothing more than badly overheated and not actually scalded. A little coercion and Eliot responded enough to pull the clothes on himself without Nathan's help. He left Eliot sitting on the edge of the bed for a few moments and hurried to the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a couple of the leftover Valium and a glass of water. "Hey El," he murmured softly, "Take these for me and we'll get some rest."

Eliot tried objecting, refusing stubbornly for a while, before finally caving to Nathan's assurances that it was just for the evening, just for _now_. The tension in his whole being was clear to see and so as soon as he'd taken the Valium, Nathan encouraged him to lie down before lying alongside and taking him in his arms, with a gentle kiss to the back of his neck and murmured reassurances.

Nathan held on, waiting . . . waiting for something to change, for Eliot to relax or say something, but the time ticked on and Eliot still lay rigid and tense. Nathan sighed, wishing he knew what to do to help now.

Suddenly Eliot moved, he turned over and buried his head into the crook of Nathan's neck without a word. The move caught Nathan by surprise but as soon as Eliot stilled, he shifted his arms to hold him close, one hand running soothingly along the line of his back as he muttered nonsense into Eliot's ear, "I've got you, we're going to be okay. It's over now." He felt the shivers that were passing through Eliot, felt as his shoulder grew damp from silent tears, knew then that Eliot hadn't told him half of what he'd seen from the Polerentovs. He held on tight, never easing his grip until he felt Eliot finally relax and fall asleep.

It was all such a mess, Nathan thought, and he had no idea how to fix it. The soothing calm of Eliot's breathing, the warmth of having him so close lulled Nathan towards sleep until he too was drowsing, not far enough gone to be deeply asleep, still aware of holding Eliot close and the need to protect him. Every time Eliot shifted or moaned in his sleep, Nathan would run his hand soothingly down Eliot's arm or back, murmuring reassurances of "Sssh, I've got you. 's all over now," until Eliot resettled before drifting deeper again himself.

He was pulled violently from his half-slumber, when Eliot shot out of his arms with a cry of terror. Eliot was off the bed before Nathan even had time to realize what was happening. Nathan pulled himself together rapidly and hurried to catch up with Eliot, trying to stop the younger man. "Eliot, stop. Slow down," he said urgently. He'd managed to catch hold of Eliot's wrist half-turning him but also feeling the tremors shivering through him. "Eliot, it's okay. You're safe." He gently tried to pull Eliot back to the bed, taking in the look on his face as he tried to move him.

"No . . ." Eliot gasped. "No! No, no, no!" he half-sobbed, pulling his hands up to rub at his eyes, as if to clear the image he had there.

"Eliot . . . Eliot, you're awake now. It's over, just a nightmare," Nathan found himself trying to break through the hold the dream image had on Eliot. "It's over," he said again.

With a particularly violent shudder, Eliot finally seemed to pull himself free of the nightmare, his eyes still huge. "Nathan?"

"You had a nightmare," Nathan tried to explain, only to see as the memory of the dream assailed Eliot again. Clamping a hand over his mouth, he rushed toward the bathroom. Nathan waited for a moment before heading after him.

Eliot was already standing unsteadily, moving to the sink to wash away the foul taste from his mouth. He shivered as the sweat on his skin cooled. Nathan watched as Eliot's attention turned momentarily to the shower, his shoulders slumped though and he turned away, eyes dull and resigned as he took a step towards the door. Nathan put a hand up to stop him. "What?" Eliot's voice was hoarse.

"You were thinking about having a shower . . . it might help . . ."

Eliot shrugged, his body echoing his resignation, then murmured, "It won't change anything that happened. It doesn't go away . . . ever."

"I'm sorry about that." Nathan stepped round Eliot and leant in to turn the shower on. He waited for the water to warm up before turning back, saying again, "It might help."

Eliot sighed, before shedding his t-shirt and boxers and climbing into the shower. Nathan paused for a moment then hurried to collect more towels and a change of clothes, throwing the sweat soaked t-shirt into the laundry basket. When he returned, he shed his own clothes and climbed into the shower behind Eliot. The younger man looked round sharply. "What are you doing? Nate . . . I – I . . . not tonight, please."

"Sssh, don't worry," Nathan murmured softly. He lifted his hands to Eliot's shoulders and began to gently massage at the tight knots of tension. It took a while to work his way down Eliot's back but gradually Eliot relaxed.

Nathan slowed the movement of his hands, resting them on the top of Eliot's hips as Eliot turned and leaned into kiss the older man, a chaste kiss that spoke not of sex, but of the emotions he could not put into words. "Come on now," Nathan said quietly, "Let's go get some sleep." He leant forward to finish his words with another brief kiss, before reaching past Eliot to turn off the water.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7**_

The shadows beneath Eliot's eyes were dark and he was dragging himself round on the last dregs of his energy and Nathan really didn't know what to do about it. Eliot was still being woken by horrendous nightmares and hadn't had a proper amount of sleep even for him in days. Nathan could see him weakening, knew the residual pain of recovering from the Vicodin was still a factor but much less than it had been. The real issue was certainly that he was trying to exercise himself into exhaustion.

When they'd made their plans for getting themselves through the temptation to give in to the lure of their own addictions, Eliot's plan had been too simple. "Don't let me have any!" he'd said unequivocally as if that would be enough. Neither of them had expected the trial to come so soon.

Eliot's muscles were cramped and sore constantly, his joints aching. The fact that he was still struggling to eat meant that he was bruising easily from the slightest knock or pressure on his now too sensitive body. The evidence was almost brutally shown by the bruising on his shoulder where he had brushed too heavily against a door frame and the huge bruise on his knee where he'd lost his balance and landed heavily. What turned Nathan's stomach even more though was by the finger marks he himself had left the previous night.

Emotionally Nathan felt guilty as hell, but logically he knew differently. The bruises he'd left weren't a sign of violence or intended pain, they were a sign of Eliot's ongoing struggle with illness and somehow he needed to find a key to resolving it and helping Eliot move on.

When he came back from the store, he found Eliot back in their makeshift gym again, on the treadmill running mile after mile. The pace was unforgiving, not a gentle jog, not a gradual build to a run and then easing up before another hard run. No, Eliot was running hell for leather as if pursued by a monster.

Nathan growled in frustration from the doorway, but moved across the room swiftly, schooling his features into a calm expression before he reached Eliot. He looked at the young man on the treadmill, saw the agony of muscles being pushed beyond reasonable expectation, saw the pain and distress. "Slowing it down now, Eliot," he said, keeping the urge to yell and call Eliot an idiot for doing this to himself as he leant in to adjust the settings on the treadmill.

It took some time to slow the machine down, little by little to give Eliot's body a chance to adjust and when it finally came to a halt Nathan pulled Eliot off the machine, turning him round abruptly and pushing him roughly up against the wall, letting go of some of the frustrated anger he felt in the process, "What the fuck are you trying to do? Kill yourself?" He raged on, "We've gone through weeks of shit and now . . . now I don't get this, Eliot! This isn't getting fit! This isn't trying to get rid of that burn you had inside. What the fuck are you doing?"

Nathan let go abruptly, taking a step back and shaking his head as if to clear it. "I've had it!" He turned to the treadmill and gave it a shove making it rock. "It's going, Eliot! All of it! Are you even listening to me?" He looked back at Eliot, who was still slumped against the wall, breath heaving in and out, legs unsteady. "I will not have _any_ of this crap in my home if I can't trust you with it!"

Eliot's energy gave out under the onslaught and his legs crumpled beneath him as he slid down the wall to the floor. Nathan was at his side instantly, dropping down to hold him from slipping any further, ignoring the sweat drenching Eliot and the harsh unpleasant smell of sickness that it carried. Eliot still didn't say a word, just dragged breaths in and out painfully. "I can't stand back and watch you hurt yourself, Eliot. This has to stop."

Eliot pushed himself to sit upright against the wall, head hanging down as his breathing calmed. "Fuck you, Nathan! You don't know shit!" he spat hoarsely once he could speak.

"Then tell me! I don't get it, I really, really don't get it!"

"It's my job to protect . . . it's me who does the dirty work. You don't know what that's like. You don't, you can't. You think the next big nasty," he said the word with a sneer, "is going to take it easy on me because I've _been ill_? You think next time I'm in a fight to protect one of you, I can just decide I'm too tired and I'm not going to carry on? Do you?"

"I get that, I know _that_." He shook his head sadly, "Eliot, this isn't that, even I can see it, so don't pretend, don't lie to me . . . please." He brushed Eliot's bangs back from his face and added, "Come with me . . . please, just humor me or something for a few minutes." He hoped that Eliot would do as he asked.

Eliot paused before accepting his hand to help hoist himself from the ground and when Nathan didn't let go, he followed resignedly into the bedroom. He sat down dejectedly on the side of the bed, head down, shoulders slumped, hands hanging listlessly between his legs.

Nathan, however, had other ideas and pulled him up again, guiding him over to the closet, where he opened the door to reveal the full-length mirror within. He maneuvered Eliot between himself and the mirror. His movements deceptively gentle yet not allowing for any alternative but to comply. "Nathan!" Eliot whined as he tried to turn away, but Nathan wasn't letting go.

"Calm down, I just want to show you something. I'm not going to hurt you." He pulled one leg of Eliot's sweatpants to reveal the large bruise below the knee joint. "You see that? It's a bruise, Eliot. A bruise that shouldn't be there."

Eliot sighed, "It's just a bruise for crying out loud. It's nothing, doesn't even hurt none." He tried to shrug out of Nathan's grip and away from the mirror, but Nathan just kept a firmer hold, Eliot's attitude only making him more determined.

"You landed on your knee when you lost your balance and it bruised," Nathan spoke slowly and clearly, ignoring Eliot's sigh along with his words. "It's a big bruise for a relatively small event." He turned Eliot slightly, revealing a second bruise marring his calf, the shades different to the one on the front of his knee. "I'm not sure where this one is from," he said quietly, bending down to coast his fingers gently over the bruise, before pulling the sweatpants' leg down and rising again. His fingers slid round the waistband of the sweatpants pulling them away from Eliot's stomach slightly and down a few inches to reveal a darkening bruise on Eliot's hip. His thumb ghosted over the bruise as he murmured, "You brushed past the edge of the table for this one." Eliot closed his eyes and turned his head away from the mirror. "No, Eliot! You need to really look at this!" Nathan's voice was quiet, but insistent.

He let the sweatpants fall back and adjusted them so they sat right on Eliot's waist again before pulling the younger man's t-shirt away from his neck pulling far enough to reveal the deep purple-red bruise that covered the greater part of Eliot's shoulder from his collision with the door jamb. "Another one. Are you looking?" He let the t-shirt fall back into place and stroked his hand gently along Eliot's clenched jaw. "You're not fighting. You shouldn't be covered in this many bruises. . ."

"They're accidents, Nathan. Nothing remarkable. So I'm a klutz!" Eliot tried again to get free and turn away from the mirror.

"And these?" Nathan raised the bottom of the t-shirt to reveal the finger marks from the previous evening. "What about these, Eliot? Because I _know_ that I wasn't aiming to hurt you last night! I _know_ that I should be able to hold you without you bruising like that. You're still sick, man. You need to give your body time to heal, not push it to extremes like this. You need to give yourself time. You should not be punishing yourself like this."

"It's not that simple!" Eliot snapped.

"Then tell me, Eliot. I'll listen, you just have to explain it to me." Eliot stared into the mirror in frustration not at himself, but at Nathan's calm composed appearance and soothing tone.

"I'm not a freaking idiot! You! You are the one who doesn't get it. Not me!" Nathan didn't respond, just waited with an unruffled expression on his face. Eliot pulled away and sat down heavily on the bed. "I wasn't good enough," he said after a few moments of silence. "I couldn't save them, those little girls, those women, those children." He closed his eyes and sighed. "I couldn't do enough to stop what was happening in those villages, I couldn't stop it, not soon enough to save them. . ."

Nathan sat down beside him without a word, just laying a hand on the small of Eliot's back in reassurance and support. Eliot was silent for a while, he didn't move, didn't pull away. Nathan waited alongside, the warmth of his hand radiating comfort and reassurance. Eventually Eliot sighed and began to talk again, "This isn't just something I can forget! I can't just pretend it didn't happen, Nathan! I've tried, believe me, I've tried."

"No, it isn't," Nathan agreed quietly. "But it also isn't something that you should be punishing yourself for. You weren't the one to blame for what happened and I _know_ that you did all you could because I know you, Eliot, and you never do anything less than all you can."

"It wasn't enough," Eliot muttered. "It was never enough."

"It was all you could do," Nathan knew there was no way to change the past, no way to deny what Eliot had said. There was nothing more that he could have done, but everything hadn't been enough to stop the events that had played out and that he now had to live with it and there was nothing that Nathan could do to change that.

* * *

Nathan had watched Eliot closely, stopping him from doing himself further harm over the coming days, trying to keep him sane, even though he didn't know how to help him deal with the past, how to help him put it behind him. The nightmares continued and Nathan did his best to be there every time Eliot woke, but he knew that sometimes he must have been just too exhausted to react to Eliot's distress, sleeping through Eliot's nightmares and so the younger man continued to deal with his burden alone.

The days passed and Eliot seemed ever more reluctant to leave the apartment. Nathan watched his skin grow paler from lack of sunlight, his frame grow thinner as time drew on, but no amount of coercion seemed to work. The working out was more controlled, Eliot wrote down a plan, a mixture of strength and stamina building exercises and to Nathan's relief he stuck to it. The extreme push had halted, but Eliot was no happier and no more relaxed.

Nathan called Parker asking her to visit with the promise of a meal cooked by Eliot. She came round, apparently delighted to be invited to dinner. She bounced into the apartment with a smile, a bunch of flowers and a six pack of soda; a breath of fresh air to the men within. After a cursory greeting to Nathan, she headed straight to the kitchen in search of Eliot, where she hovered in the doorway, not sure what to do next. Eliot caught sight of her as he turned from the sink back to the stove.

"Eliot!" she greeted enthusiastically, throwing herself across the room at him. "You're cooking me dinner. Sophie said when I was going to Peggy's house for dinner, you know after I was on that jury, that I had to take a present like flowers and wine, so I brought you flowers and soda . . . I thought maybe with Nate's 'you know', soda would be better."

"Soda is perfect, sweetheart," Eliot smiled into her hair, holding her tight, finding an unexpected and not fully understood relief in her warmth in his arms, knowing that she was safe.

Nathan walked into the room and saw the clear affection between the two people before him, recognized the difference in the look in Eliot's eyes as he held Parker to when they were together alone. It was reassuring that the look was so different to the ones Eliot gave him, but still so warm. "So Parker, flowers, huh?"

She stepped back from Eliot, instantly wary. "Is there something wrong with flowers? Sophie . . . Sophie said . . ."

Eliot glared at him from behind the young woman as he cast his arm back over her shoulder, saying, "Flowers are perfect, sweetheart. Just what we needed to brighten this place up, just like you." He hugged her close again and she gradually relaxed into his hold.

"They are lovely," Nathan quickly added to try and rectify his mistake. "I'll find something to put them in so we can have them out in the living room. Can I get you a drink, Parker?"

"Parker brought up some sodas," Eliot said before Nathan could suggest anything else, a glint of warning in his eyes.

"Great," Nathan replied with a broad smile, "You, my dear, can come to dinner again, bringing us gifts and your beautiful self, the ideal dinner companion."

Parker blushed, but seemed more relaxed as she smiled and turned back to Eliot, "Can I help you with anything?"

"Nope, it's all under control here. Why don't you and Nathan go and sit down and it'll be ready in a few minutes?"

* * *

The meal was as Nathan had expected delicious, and with Eliot at the table, Parker seemed more relaxed and was chatty. He felt an odd twinge of jealousy pass through him at the familiarity between his companions, the two of them laughing and smiling. Nathan watched the light touches, nudges in jest and the way Eliot tugged Parker's hair when she was looking the other way. He had to keep reminding himself that there was nothing sexual in the touches, in the glances between the two which almost invariably ended in one of them pulling a face or sticking out a tongue at the other. It was like watching siblings tease each other, but the two of them were relaxed and enjoying the interaction. Nathan felt old; too old for Eliot. He stood and moved through into the kitchen to take a break.

Eliot appeared at the door a moment later, the tension around his eyes back that had been missing all evening. "Nate?"

Nathan turned around with a gentle smile, "Hey." He took a step across the room closer to the younger man. "Thought you and Parker were busy there, I was just waiting for the two of you to start braiding each other's hair!" He leant in to place an affectionate kiss on Eliot's forehead, surprised when he stood back again to see Eliot looking upset. "El?"

"I'm sorry."

"What?" Nathan gasped. "What are you sorry for?"

"Me . . . Parker . . ."

"God, No, El! It's fine. I've just come to make more coffee. It's good to see Parker so comfortable, good to see her with a friend who makes her smile without the need for money to be involved or actual thieving." Nathan still found it hard at times to reconcile the team's hitter with the vulnerable person that was hidden behind the façade. The past few weeks had destroyed that façade. He knew that no matter what he thought about his relationship with Eliot, now was not the time to be changing anything, Eliot needed the security, needed the love and no matter what Nathan felt about being too old, he did actually love the younger man in a way he hadn't loved anyone in years, it wasn't just a physical attraction, it wasn't even just the draw of the physical aspect of their relationship. It was more. Eliot was under his skin.

* * *

Parker's visit had been a success, it seemed to have broken Eliot out of the slump he had slipped into and he seemed to be growing in strength again. He was exercising daily but as far as Nathan could tell it was reasonable and well within his agreed target. When he was finished, he was tired but not exhausted and definitely not on the verge of collapse. Nathan wouldn't ever ask more than that.

Eliot still stayed home most of the time, seemingly reluctant to face the world but as he'd taken to venturing as far as the local grocery store again to Nathan's mind that was progress. He knew he needed to push Eliot to go out more, but he was also drawn to letting Eliot take things at his own pace for a while, hoping that he would learn to trust his own judgment again. Hardison had asked a few times what Nathan wanted to do about the situation with Polerentov but Nathan had just delayed him, hoping that more information would help them prepare better. He knew that really he needed to get Eliot into the office and talking with Hardison directly.

Things were taken out of his hands when there was a knock on the door and he opened it revealing Hardison there. "I brought soda," he said, before walking past Nathan, "Figured Eliot and I could watch the game."

"What game?" Nathan asked.

Hardison looked at him without blinking and said, "Does it really matter? I mean you can watch too, but you know, maybe we need a little bonding time, man to man and all that."

"It sounds good. Make yourself at home, I'll let Eliot know you're here."

* * *

Nathan had to almost force Eliot into facing the younger man after he'd claimed to be too tired and had indicated that he was going to go to bed but that Nathan could watch the game with Hardison, it wasn't a problem. "It's not me that he's come to visit, it's you. So you can get your ass out there and make him welcome and stop acting like a teenage girl."

Eliot's look of shock was a picture, but he nodded, moved across to the drawers with his clothes in, pulled off the t-shirt he'd been wearing and changed it for another, swept back his hair agitatedly but left the room quietly. Nathan hung back, dropping on the bed resigned, hoping that by the time he left the room to join the other men, some of the ice would have been broken.

When he went out a few minutes later, Hardison was sitting alone in front of the TV with a hockey game on, leant forward on the edge of his seat, but there was no sign of Eliot. He sighed and moved round the couch to sit down. "Oh hey," said Hardison barely glancing away from the TV. "You know I was thinking. . ." and he began to spout some long technical sales pitch as to why Nathan had got the wrong kind of TV for watching sport. Nathan let him ramble for a while with the odd grunt of encouragement or hum of pseudo-agreement, although in reality he had no idea what Hardison was talking about at all.

"Hardison, where's Eliot?" he eventually interrupted.

"Huh? Oh Eliot, yeah, Eliot; he's in the kitchen," Hardison said with a nod and a wave in that direction. He'd barely finished speaking when the kitchen door opened and Eliot appeared, balancing a bowl of popcorn and three sodas. "Oh yeah, cool, popcorn. That's what we need, dude!" Hardison greeted him.

Eliot handed one soda and the bowl of popcorn to Hardison before turning to give another to Nathan and then looking round as if unsure where to sit. "C'mere man," Nathan said warmly. Eliot's eyes flicked nervously to Hardison but Nathan just patted the seat beside him and so Eliot sat stiffly alongside. Nathan popped open his soda, took a swig and then leant forward to take a handful of the popcorn from the large bowl on Hardison's lap. He settled himself back on the couch, deliberately edging closer to Eliot, ate his way through the popcorn in his hand and then slung his arm along the back of the couch behind Eliot, letting his hand drop forward so his fingertips rested on Eliot's shoulder. He moved his hand to hold Eliot in place when the younger man started to move away and when he settled again, Nathan shifted his hand back so it was only the ends of his fingers barely resting there again. It was enough to be there and be in contact. Nathan didn't have a sudden urge to start flaunting their relationship but he didn't want to pretend it wasn't happening either.

"Yes!" Hardison cried, surging forward in excitement as a goal was scored on screen. "Woah! Man! Go!" He fell back into his seat with a laugh, only just having caught hold of the bowl of popcorn before it toppled and glanced across at Eliot and Nathan. "Good popcorn, dude!" he gestured to the bowl as he set it down on the table closer to the other two men. "So Eliot . . . I was saying to your man, Nate there, that he should invest in a better TV. You know surround sound . . ."

Eliot didn't give him much time to ramble before cutting him short, "We'll take you with us when we get round to replacing it, you can make sure we get the right one next time."

"Man, definitely. You know, dude, you only have to say the word and I will see you right. I mean I get it, you know, the two of you, not so hot on the technological wizardry of this century but I'm there for ya, I am _there_ for _you!_"

The conversation fell silent again as the game resumed, but at the next break in play, Hardison chirped up again, "So Eliot, how're you doing now? You know I haven't seen you in a while, you've not been into the office and all. I mean . . . I'm sorry, man, you know, about what I said. I'm totally, man, _tot-a-lly_ on your side, man. I want you back in there. Man, I got your back and you got mine, right, bro?"

"Yeah, Hardison, I got your back," Eliot said quietly.

"We can put behind us what I said, right? I mean I didn't know about the Polerentov guy, the doctor and stuff . . . but you forgive me, right?"

"Nothing to forgive, Hardison. You were right not to trust me."

A frown crossed Hardison's features as if he was unsure what to say to that, but Nathan gave a quick almost indiscernible shake of his head and said, "It's over and done now. Eliot's on the mend."

"Yeah, good, that's good," Hardison readily agreed.

"Are we watching this game or shall I go watch it somewhere else? Somewhere with less gossiping?" Eliot growled. "I'm sure you can find something better to talk about if you do insist on talking." The conversation died down and attention was turned back to the game on the TV.

As the game finished, Nathan moved to sit forward, pulling his hand gently across the back of Eliot's neck as he brought it to his own lap. "So Chinese, pizza or . . ." he said.

"Not for me," Eliot said, shifting his own weight forward as he prepared to stand up and move. "I'm . . ."

"Eating with us," Nathan finished for him. "So what's it to be?" He held up a finger in warning as Eliot started to object, until the younger man flopped back bonelessly, muttering under his breath about overbearing, patronizing idiots who thought they could boss everyone around. Nathan just smirked and raised his eyebrows as he waited for an actual answer to his question.

"Chinese – the usual," Eliot finally muttered begrudgingly. "I'm going to the kitchen to make coffee and get Hardison another soda. Is that allowed now?"

"Wonderful!" Nathan replied with a broad grin. "So Alec, what would you like?" Nathan called through the order and then said, "He'll be out in a few minutes . . . unless he's hiding of course . . . or you could chase him out if you want, stop him being miserable, that would be better. I'm going to walk down to collect the food. I'll be back in about ten minutes. Go bond!" With that said, he headed to the front door and was gone.

Hardison looked round unsure what he was really supposed to do for the best now – just wait for Eliot to reappear or do as Nate had suggested.

* * *

When Nathan returned about fifteen minutes later, the table was set with everything they would need and the two men were sat on the couches again, but the TV was turned off this time and some of Eliot's favorite music was playing. "So this is like what, man?" he heard Hardison say ahead of Eliot's reply as he described the type of music, the instruments playing and something about the quality of the singer's voice. Nate smiled and wondered if Hardison would realize that Eliot was playing him, getting him back for all the technical jargon he'd spouted earlier about TVs. He had no doubt that everything Eliot said about the music was absolutely one hundred percent true, but Eliot didn't normally bombard people with technical information, just encouraged them to listen and enjoy.

Nate had to admit that his own horizons had been broadened by listening to Eliot's choices and the first time he'd stayed over at Eliot's apartment months and months ago now, he'd been surprised to find Eliot had a small collection of guitars. It had taken a long while for Eliot to trust him enough to tell him about them. Each one had its own history and they ranged from the battered old guitar that had been his first to some top of the line limited edition models, all bought and paid for, never stolen, which Nathan figured said a lot about what Eliot really believed was important. The first time he had caught Eliot playing and singing had been a complete accident, but his heart had almost stopped at the emotional impact. Eliot's eyes were closed and Nathan could see just how deeply the words he was singing were embedded into Eliot's soul.

A different time, a different place and instead of a hitter Eliot could have been a musician, a singer; just as he could have been a professional chef. Nate's eyes tightened slightly as he considered what exactly it was that made the difference between pushing a person into a life of crime or a life of legality.

Hardison could have had his pick of careers, the man was bright, quick, fiercely intelligent. Computers and gadgets were far from being his only talents. Eliot far cleverer than he generally let on and talented in so many areas for all he let the outside world see him as just brawn. Sophie, elegant, versatile, multilingual, clever, wasted so much talent on either trying to be a real life actress at which it was hard to pretend she did anything but suck or she used all the skills she really needed when she conned people. And Parker . . . Parker was clever, quick thinking, somewhat socially inept admittedly but if she'd actually followed a normal career path would she have been more normal? Nate thought back to when she had been relaxed and laughing and joking with Eliot the other day, if things had been different, she could have been that person, instead of a career criminal.

"Converted him yet?" Nathan greeted as he walked to the table with the take-out. Eliot smirked before moving to lower the volume on the music and ushered Hardison across to the table.

The meal passed with the atmosphere relaxed and the banter between the three men fairly easy to Nathan's relief. There were more than physical hurts to heal and the evening was going some way to healing some of the emotional rifts caused by Eliot's illness.

With the meal over, there was a lull in the conversation as Eliot cleared the plates away to the kitchen and went to make coffee. Hardison seemed thoughtful and, with Eliot for the moment out of sight and hopefully out of earshot with the noises coming from the kitchen, he quietly asked, "Can we talk about what happened? Why it happened? I mean Polerentov, not why Eliot did what they told him with the drugs and stuff. I need to know more about what I'm trying find out." Nathan nodded and said that he would go and warn Eliot, springing it on him would only end badly he knew.

He made his way into the kitchen and as he reached the door he saw Eliot leaning against the counter breathing slowly, controlled, head hanging. At the slight noise behind him, he turned to Nathan and, with saddened eyes, nodded. Nathan stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him. "It has to be done," Eliot murmured and Nathan agreed. The two men shared a quiet moment together as they waited for the coffee to be ready.

Eliot drew himself up straighter and nodding at the coffee machine, asked if Nathan would finish it, before turning and heading back to join Hardison. Nathan followed minutes later carrying the coffees and saw that Eliot had already started to tell the story. He listened as intently as he had the first time, hearing the difference in how Eliot told it this time. His words were more dispassionate, more distanced, more practical. He gave the bare bones of detail about the atrocities he had witnessed the Polerentov family commit along with an account of his own actions in killing the brother and ensuring the father was imprisoned.

The detail was enough to disturb Hardison, enough to let him know just what kind of men they were talking about without him needing to know the intricacies of just how horrific it had really been, for the victims or the observers. With Nathan's help, Hardison was able to ask the questions he needed answered to begin to track down a suitable opposition, the kinds of things Polerentov was likely to be involved with now, any likely associates. Eliot was able to come up with answers for some of them, enough that when Hardison finally left he had a place to start, leads to follow.

Nathan walked Hardison to the door, checking that the younger man was alright. He could see clearly the discomfort, the distress at what he'd heard, what he'd found out and Nathan knew Eliot had spared so many details to protect him, protect his innocence. He was pleased that Eliot had handled it so well, also in a bizarre way pleased that Hardison found it so disturbing – it was reassuring that it made them all appreciate Eliot more when they really began to understand just a little of what he'd faced in the past.

"We'll catch you in the office in a few days, unless you need us before, in which case call. Don't hesitate to call me, Hardison," Nathan said warmly, with just the barest hint of emphasis on the word me.

"Is he going to be okay?" Hardison asked with a concerned expression on his face and a nod of his head toward the inside of the apartment. "I mean . . . he lives with having seen that all of the time. . . and worse, right? He was sparing me details, wasn't he? It must give him nightmares."

"He finds ways to deal with it. He'll be okay in time," Nathan said simply.

"The Vicodin?"

"No, that was never why he took the Vicodin. Look, it's been a long evening, it's been good for the most part despite some of what we've talked about, now's not the time for that discussion and he . . ."

"Yeah, he needs you, I guess. Huh, before I came round I was kinda worried it was gonna be awkward an' all, the two of you, all together like, but you know, it wasn't. We was just hanging before with the game you know, like old times. You're kind of good together, I guess, in a weird, 'I don't want to know any more details' kind of way."

Nathan couldn't help but laugh at Hardison's admission and wondered what he would say if he realized they'd been together for a while, just even more discreet. Now though, he was convinced Eliot didn't need discreet, they didn't need any more secrets, there were enough plaguing him already and some of those needed to be kept, at least for now.

Hardison vanished down the corridor and into the elevator before Nathan closed and locked the door, turning to go and find Eliot. He found him sitting on the edge of the bed, already changed. He looked weary. Nathan crossed the room and leant down to kiss his forehead affectionately but Eliot turned his face up and their lips met in a kiss filled with love and warmth. As he drew back, Nathan asked, "You okay?"

Eliot nodded, "Fine, just tired. That was okay though, right? He didn't need to know the rest, did he?"

"No, you were absolutely right, he didn't. You told him just what he needed to know, the rest we can lay to rest now. I'm going to go and get ready myself and I'll join you in a few minutes." Eliot nodded, his hand catching Nathan's for an instant and squeezing gently before passing his thumb over Nathan's knuckles. Nathan brought his other hand up to softly catch the side of Eliot's face, smoothing his thumb across Eliot's cheek.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**__ Thanks to people who are reading and Hugs to all who have left feedback. It's much appreciated._


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8**_

Eliot was twitchy, Nathan couldn't come up with any other word to describe it but the man wouldn't sit still, wouldn't stop moving at all. Even knowing all that though, it was still somewhat of a surprise when he appeared with Nathan's car keys and said curtly, "We're going to the office. You're driving. Here are your keys."

"Now?" he started to ask in surprise, only to see Eliot already pulling on his jacket and shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers. "I guess that's a yes then." It didn't take them long to be downstairs and settled in the car pulling out into the traffic.

Nathan kept flicking glances at Eliot as he drove, watching as the younger man fiddled with the radio stations, the air conditioning, the angle of the air vents before picking invisible threads from his jeans for a while then returning to adjust the radio again.

"El, is everything okay?"

Eliot jumped almost as if he'd been so lost in his thoughts that he'd forgotten that Nathan was with him, guiltily pulling his hand away from the radio before replying with a simple "uh-huh". Nathan sighed quietly, gave Eliot a reassuring smile and appeared to turn his full attention back to the road. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw as Eliot ran a hand down his face and sighed, before beginning to worry at his lip. Nathan let his right hand drift across to give Eliot's leg a reassuring squeeze, "It's gonna be okay."

* * *

In the office, Eliot was completely out of character or at least that was Nathan's first thought, but in actual fact he was the man Nathan had grown used to seeing at home over the last few weeks, not the man who he saw in the office before this had all come to pass. Eliot was following orders, bordering on being virtually submissive in his interactions, barely speaking a word that could be considered to be his own opinion.

When they first arrived at the office, Nathan had decided it would be a good thing to start by getting them all together in the conference room in order to decide on a plan of action for the next few weeks and begin to rebuild the team feeling for them all. Nathan made it clear to everyone that at some point they would be investigating Eliot's doctor, but that they were going to focus on other 'client' possibilities first. He'd seen the way Eliot's shoulders had dropped from their tense position to almost relaxed at his words and a brief meeting of eyes with Hardison showed that his younger colleague had seen it too.

Parker had been delighted see Eliot in the office and wouldn't leave him alone, constantly edging into his space or patting his arm, smiling at him, while Sophie's welcome had been warm and reassuring but not overwhelming. Eliot was still on edge though and any time anyone mentioned anything that resembled a suggestion that they wanted a coffee or soda, Eliot was out of his seat and heading to fetch it for them. The reaction worried Nathan as he tried to figure it out in his own mind, watching as his colleagues appeared somewhat confused by it.

With a job decided on and Parker and Sophie off out of the office to do some groundwork, Hardison excused himself to his office and Eliot's anxiety seemed to rise further still. Nathan watched him concerned, waiting for him to say something, anything that would explain what was going on but in the end he had to give in and actually prompt the conversation. Eliot was reticent, reluctant to say anything at all until finally he just stopped and suddenly confessed to not really understanding what he was supposed to be doing.

Nathan realized that they'd spent the whole conversation skirting around the issue of what Eliot was supposed to do. No one bringing up that they weren't really sure what he _could_ do now. "Hardison showed you all that geek stuff before, right? For making IDs?" When Eliot nodded, Nathan announced that it would be a good time for them all to have some new, extra IDs prepared. He saw the nervous set to Eliot's expression, the chew on his lip before he stood and headed for his own office to start work.

The room was quiet as Nathan leant back in his chair and sighed, reflecting that the coming weeks were going to be anything but easy. Despite the improvement in Eliot's health, he wasn't sure what they were going to do about the younger man. The man needed a role, he needed to feel useful, intelligent and part of the team. Getting him to do run of the mill jobs wasn't going to be acceptable for long and it would be even worse when Eliot forced him to acknowledge that he was giving Eliot jobs to do that would take him an hour or two but that Hardison could more than likely throw out in a matter of minutes while he was waiting for something else to print or download. Hardison wouldn't mind, but that wasn't really the issue. The fact that for a while he could pass it off as Eliot needing to practice the skills would hold them over initially but long term . . . long term Eliot needed a proper place in the team and at the moment it wasn't clear what that could be if it wasn't as their hitter.

Hardison came in about thirty minutes later, a sheaf of paper in one hand and a laptop balanced in the other. He pushed the door closed behind him and crossed to sit beside Nathan. "I got the stuff you wanted on that new job," he started.

"That's good," Nathan nodded, his eyes tired. "You seen Eliot in the last hour?"

"Yeah . . . he came into my office about forty minutes ago with an ID he'd made, said you'd asked him to do some, wanted to check he'd done it well enough. To be honest, he seemed kinda anxious about it . . ."

"Had he?"

"Darn near as perfect as it could be," Hardison answered. "What are you gonna do with him over the next few weeks? What's the plan? I mean seriously, he doesn't look like he could go two rounds with me . . . and seriously . . . I mean . . . seriously, physical I do _not_ do!"

"I don't know, Hardison. I've been trying to work out that one for myself. It's going to take him a long time to be fully up to par again and in the meantime he needs something to do. Fake IDs aren't going to cut it for long."

"You want me to show him more computer stuff he could do?" Nathan only gave it a moment's thought before agreeing, adding the qualifier that he still needed to find something more, something "Eliot". The two men talked on for a while about the research Hardison had done and where it might lead.

Nathan hadn't been alone long when Parker appeared. "Where's Eliot?" she asked as soon as she'd finished explaining what she'd found out while she'd been out of the office.

"In his office, working on some IDs as far as I know," Nathan replied, suddenly aware of just how long it had been since he'd seen or heard in person from Eliot and with Parker's question he began to wonder if he should have checked in on the younger man himself by now. He stopped that train of thought reminding himself that Eliot was a grown man, more than capable of looking after himself in most circumstances short of a brawl now.

"Cool. 'Cause I need him for some stuff. He can help me, right?" she bounced on the spot. Nathan waved her away with a gesture of acceptance and a smile. It took away the burgeoning need to check on Eliot himself by letting Parker do it. Emotionally less charged all round, which couldn't be a bad thing. He watched as she almost skipped to Eliot's office wondering what she had in mind.

He heard the movement between rooms, caught sight momentarily as Eliot followed Parker a few minutes later out of his office and down the corridor towards the gym. Technically speaking, it was a spare office, but with no one to fill it when they'd first moved in, Eliot had bought gym mats and covered most of the floor along with a few of those sorts of cushioned protection things that Boxing Trainers used so the people they were training could punch at them without them being injured. There was nothing like getting technical, Nathan figured.

Thinking back, Nathan was amused at how he hadn't seen the point initially, Hardison and Sophie had whined and moaned at the waste of space and the injustice of Eliot being allowed _all_ that extra room, but Eliot had been insistent and hadn't backed down. There were times now when Nathan wished he could have that confident man back but others when he relished the underlying softer side of Eliot that he'd come to know more recently.

When Eliot had first fitted out the room, Nathan had assumed he'd just been trying to save joining a gym in the area although it didn't seem to be equipped enough for Eliot to gain much use from it, but then Eliot had set to work, starting with Parker. He'd taught her simple but effective moves to help keep herself safe. She'd been the easy one, already fit, already supple, already willing. Eliot had taught her to slip the grasp of an attacker, simple but effective ways of disabling a man, ways to throw herself out of harm's way so she didn't get herself hurt.

She'd enthused about her newfound skills and Eliot had been very severe in telling her they were for emergencies, only to be used if he couldn't get her out of trouble, but Parker's enthusiasm had rubbed off and it hadn't been long before Sophie had approached him for some 'moves of her own'.

Nathan had observed from a distance, fascinated as he'd seen him teach her a completely different way, different style of moves, different type of self-protection. He'd been surprised at Sophie's reaction. She'd seemed to relish Eliot's time and attention, showing a degree of dedication Nathan hadn't expected. He'd been surprised by the difference in how Eliot had both treated and trained Sophie to the way in which he'd worked with Parker.

There was a point at which Nathan was almost certain that Sophie was trying to make him jealous, trying to make him believe she was flirting with Eliot or more to try and get a reaction from him. It had made him smile at the same time as feeling sorry knowing that Sophie was wasting her energy, Eliot wasn't responding and Nathan wasn't jealous. That boat had sailed, he thought, it was too late for them. Then she'd begun to talk about practicing with Parker and that just flummoxed Nathan completely. He never really fathomed her reasoning unless she really did _just_ want to be able to protect herself until Eliot could get to her to help if she was in trouble.

Eliot had shown the two women how to work together, how their styles were different but complementary and when they'd gone on the next few jobs, Nathan had been surprised to find how reassured he himself felt knowing that the girls had another element of protection against the bad guys, something else to stop them being badly hurt if trouble hit before Eliot could wade in to help.

Hardison had been . . . resistant . . . Nathan figured that was probably the best description he could come up with. Resistant. It had taken a carefully planned maneuver between Parker and Eliot that had the slip of a girl laying Hardison out cleanly and effectively to have the young man accepting Eliot's guidance. Parker had been thrilled at her own achievement, Sophie had been discretely laughing at both of the young people's reactions as had Nathan and Eliot had just set to work on Hardison while the feeling of embarrassment was fresh in his mind.

When Eliot had come to him and said it was his turn to learn something, Nathan hadn't bothered putting up a fight that he knew by then that Eliot would win and he didn't need to be laid out by either of the girls to prove a point, thank you very much. He had made certain provisos, surprised when Eliot had agreed without qualm to them all. He'd insisted on being able to wear sweats, not a suit when they trained, although he knew the whole point was to be able to protect himself and the likelihood was he wouldn't be wearing sweats on a job, but Eliot hadn't had a problem with that, providing Nathan agreed to bring suitable attire the following day, otherwise the suit it would be. The second proviso had been that the others not watch while he learnt. Eliot had nodded and the first time they started he had drawn the blinds and locked the door behind them before they started. Nathan had had to smile when he'd also promptly closed the blinds to the external window 'just in case' and had taped a sheet of cardboard over the airvents and only then had he looked at Nathan as if to ask if his precautions were enough. The third proviso had been asked more tentatively but Eliot had nodded his understanding before sitting down in the centre of the room and gesturing to Nathan to do the same.

Eliot had looked down at his hands as if thinking for a moment before beginning to speak, "You're . . . not as young as you used to be, your build is different to Hardison's . . . your movement, even when you walk, is different. I'm not trying to make anyone into a fighter, I don't want anyone to be out looking for a fight or even looking to do my job . . . but there are four of you and I can't be everywhere at once, sometimes I'm not there at all . . . not there when I'm needed. I was outside the bank when you got shot . . . there was nothing I could do for you but deal with the meth heads . . . I . . . I will always come for you, any of you . . . but I need for you to be able to keep yourselves in one piece long enough for me to get to you . . . sometimes that's going to mean just following instructions and going along with whatever you're told to do, but sometimes it's going to mean being able to protect yourself. You're all different . . . what I showed Parker wouldn't work for Sophie. What Hardison needed was . . . he's not that . . . co-ordinated, but – but I couldn't let that be an excuse for him not to be able to at least begin to protect himself and not just with his mouth. You need to be able to do that too, but you're different to all of them, but I can show you some things."

Nathan had breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn't actually going to be expected to do the same as his younger colleagues. Eliot had started by showing him what Nathan thought of as almost martial art type moves but much slower. An hour had passed and all they'd done was stretch, balance and move in a controlled manner, Eliot called a halt and Nathan looked at him in confusion, despite the slight pull of tired muscles, before derisively asking how that was supposed to help.

"It's t'ai chi . . . it's Chinese, ancient. It's a martial art," Eliot had said quietly, his voice a contradictory mix of wavering uncertainty and resolution.

"Kinda slow to be any use though," Nathan had laughed, gentler than his earlier comment, for once not wanting to ruin Eliot's attempt at friendship.

Eliot shook his head before saying quietly, "It's not like that. You learn the control, the movements, the balance. With them come the power and force behind each. It's good for your body and your mind and then . . . then when you need it, you speed it up." Eliot demonstrated without extravagant fuss how one of the moves he had taught Nathan could be applied. The movement was not as quick as it could have been, but Nathan was still caught by surprise at realizing just how smoothly and effectively Eliot's movement could have taken him out. "Your balance will improve in time and then I'll show you some other things, but this will be good for your health all round. The Chinese believed a lot of this would help balance out and improve the well-being and vitality of the whole body; it's about more than just protecting yourself or fighting."

That had been the start. Over the weeks that followed, Nathan had come to see Eliot in a completely different light. He'd realized firstly just how astute Eliot was, how knowledgeable. Gradually barriers had fallen between them and they had moved from just colleagues towards almost friends. Then Nathan had moved their training sessions nearer and nearer the end of the office working day, so that more and more often by the time they'd finished the others had gone home. Nathan saw that as an opportunity to suggest a drink, a meal and over time, Eliot accepted more and more often as the two of them built a friendship, nothing more.

Nathan still wasn't sure when that changed or even how, but at some point there came an evening when he'd found himself in a bar having a quiet drink with the younger man and resting his hand on Eliot's lower back almost possessively as he'd stared down some woman who was trying to hit on Eliot. As Eliot had turned her down politely and stepped closer into Nathan's space, Nathan had allowed his hand to slip round to rest on Eliot's hip, holding him close, secure . . . safe. They'd gone home together not long after, but nothing more had happened.

The weeks that followed had seen them spending more and more time together away from the office, fleeting touches growing longer and longer, until one day, Nathan had suddenly leant in and kissed him and felt as a previously unrecognized tension fled from Eliot's shoulders as he'd relaxed into the kiss and when they'd drawn back for breath, Eliot had tipped his head forward, resting it on Nathan's shoulder and whispered, "I can't do this if it's just a game for you. Not if it doesn't mean anything." Nathan remembered how he'd swept his fingers through Eliot's bangs, drawing them gently back from his face and tilting Eliot's head again had leant down to kiss his temple, whispering a promise that it meant _everything_.

Eliot's muscular arms had surrounded Nathan then, pulling him closer still. One hand had gone up to his hair and pulled his head closer for another searing kiss and at that moment conversation had died out as the two of them became more steadfastly intent on their shared kiss.

Looking back now Nathan realized that Eliot had been showing his vulnerabilities, his underlying insecurities longer than he'd realized. He rose from his chair and moved towards the gym, he trusted Parker but . . . yeah, he trusted them both, but he just needed to be sure that Parker wasn't inadvertently asking too much of Eliot, something he knew Eliot wouldn't deny. He leant in the doorway to watch, relieved as he saw Eliot coaching Parker, commenting on her form, her posture, each complex movement she made. From time to time Eliot would move in and guide her movement maximizing its effect and minimizing her effort. Sometimes he would stop her, she would step to the side and he would demonstrate and clarify. Nathan felt himself relax, tension easing as he leant quietly watching without interrupting.

As Parker ran through another set of moves, Eliot looked over and smiled at him briefly, before turning his attention back to the girl beside him. "That's good, sweetheart," he said as she finished. "You okay, Nate?"

Nathan gave a smirk of his own before replying, "I'm fine. You two having fun?"

Parker bounced to her feet again from where she'd practiced a move that dropped her to the floor and allowed her to take out an opponent's legs from under them. "Yup, I've got it I think . . . Want to come here and let me practice on you?" Eliot gave a short bark of laughter as Nathan wrinkled his nose by way of answer.

Nathan started to move away when Eliot spoke to him, "We could . . . maybe we could work out before we go home?" Nathan nodded, deciding that not only would it do him good as he hadn't kept up any exercise while Eliot had been ill but that the t'ai chi type exercises would probably be good for Eliot too. As he made his way back to his office, he felt his mood lighten, Eliot was going to be fine, they would all be fine.

* * *

Eliot had resumed coaching them all and it had done him the world of good. Nathan had seen Eliot's confidence and fitness increase steadily. He had his place in the team back, his own place and that was far better than anything else could be for him. Eliot had adapted his own style of coaching which gave him a little less of a physical role but was still effective. When he wasn't in the gym, he seemed to be content to carry out the more mundane computer tasks for Hardison or to pore through detailed reports looking for key information.

Eliot would often have Nathan stop at the grocery store on the way home where he would pick up ingredients for something he had decided to cook. Nathan also watched as the apartment was slowly transformed from his own to theirs and had to admit he liked it a whole lot more.

The other members of the team had started to visit again and Eliot's cooking was most definitely a draw for them all. Although there were times when Nathan missed the quiet evenings laid on the couch in front of the TV just the two of them, he could also admit that seeing Eliot become more confident and outgoing, seeing the team begin to heal again, was worth it.

He found himself watching Eliot a lot, so much at times that Hardison had taken to teasing him about the way his eyes followed Eliot around the apartment or watched Eliot as they talked. He could see the changes and improvements but also the mask and the vulnerability. He knew that Eliot still wasn't really eating enough, despite the great improvement but he satisfied himself with Eliot's improving relationship with the rest of the team for the moment.

The major concern for Nathan was the fact that Eliot seemed reluctant to go outside the office and apartment alone. When he tried to talk to Eliot about it, he just got a shrug in response and an offhand comment about not needing to go anywhere and when he tried to get Eliot to fetch something alone, there was always an excuse of not having time or not feeling up to driving right then.

It was another hurdle that he didn't know how to help Eliot overcome other than to keep giving the gentle insistence he was currently trying; the same gentle insistence that Eliot was succeeding in ignoring. The only thing he could do was to keep suggesting and just hope that eventually Eliot would take that step or failing that actually admit that there was a problem.

In the end, it was having to refuse to do something that Sophie had asked him to do that made Eliot actually start the conversation. He hadn't invited anyone back for dinner that night and so it was just the two of them. They ate in virtual silence with music playing in the background. Once they had finished and cleared away, Nathan settled on the couch pulling Eliot closer to him. After considerable shifting and changes of position, they finally settled bodies aligned facing each other lying down. It was a close fit, more difficult than other positions they could have chosen, but they both wanted the proximity and the eye contact, so it was worth it.

Eliot started by kissing Nathan, before settling. It took a few moments for him to begin to talk and when he did it surprised Nathan. "I –" he sighed, "It's still going on. I can't just put it all behind me and go out, but that's stupid. It's really stupid. I _do_ know that!"

"Not stupid, El. It's not stupid," Nathan tried to reassure him.

"I have to get past this!"

Nathan nodded as he agreed, "Yes you do. In time. This is the first step towards that, knowing that you need to do that."

Eliot shook his head, then looked away, watching his own hand run up and down Nathan's arm. "I don't know how to get past it. It's irrational and I don't know how to get past irrational."

"Is it? Is it irrational or is there something behind it? Why don't you want to go out? What is it that's stopping you just doing it?"

Eliot shifted as if to pull away, but Nathan was quicker, stopping him and instead pulling him closer. "What do you think of me really, Nate? Hitter? Or something different?"

"Something more," Nathan murmured. "Yes, different, but a whole lot more than just a hitter . . . There are so many different facets of you; you want me to list them all? All the things I love about who you are? Sense of humor, music, the cooking . . . personality, the way you are with me, the way you are with Parker and Alec like a big brother almost. Your intelligence, your looks. Want some more?"

"No. That's . . . Who am I?"

"All that and more. You're Eliot Spencer. Why? What's this got to do with you not going out?" Nathan wasn't sure what Eliot was trying to achieve at that moment with the conversation.

"What makes it worth your while to put up with all this crap?" Eliot sounded exhausted.

"You, Eliot. You make it worth it."

"I don't think I'm who you think I am." Nathan couldn't catch Eliot's eyes until he brought his hand up to the other man's cheek. Eliot's breath caught at the gentle contact and finally he began to really talk, letting it all pour out from where it had been churning him up inside, explaining his fear of being found again and of being taken, his fear of the team being hurt because of his presence, his fear that he was never again going to be strong enough to protect his friends.

Nathan knew just how deeply the relationship between all five people had grown when Eliot used the word 'friends' instead of 'the team' or even just 'the others'. Of them all, Parker and Eliot had had the most deep-seated trust issues to overcome. While Eliot had seemed more open to 'being friends' initially, events had shown him to hold so much of himself in reserve, to keep so much of himself protected. In the course of dealing with the addiction, Eliot had grown even closer to Nathan which was to be expected, but also in fact to the other team members, in particular Parker, shedding secrets before them, sharing emotions with her.

The two men talked for a long time about how the fear could be surpassed, how Eliot could find himself again before taking themselves to bed, where they kept the same tender atmosphere of intimacy and love.

* * *

_**Author's Notes: **__**More soon with luck!**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9**_

It was past midnight with Nate and Eliot both asleep when Parker called, an edge to her voice, asking for Eliot's help. It was the push he needed. Parker explained slightly breathless where she was and how her car tire had been slashed. It didn't take more than a few minutes for Eliot to pull on his clothes, grab two helmets and be leaving the apartment heading for his motorbike.

Nathan's phone rang a few minutes after Eliot's departure and he was surprised to see Parker's name flashing as he reached to answer it. "Has he left?" she asked. When Nathan confirmed that Eliot was already on his way, he was surprised to hear her excited "Cool! It worked!"

"What worked, Parker?" he pressed.

"My idea," she answered simply as if that was enough to explain everything. At Nathan's urging she explained in some detail, "He hasn't been going out, not on his own anyway. I remember before my boyfriend . . . he wouldn't go out, he was agoraphobic, frightened to leave the apartment at all. Eliot wasn't that bad, because he would go out, but only if you were with him. He wouldn't help Sophie the other day and that's when I knew, and I've been trying to work out how to help him fix it. It worked!" she finished happily.

"Parker . . ." but really Nathan had to admit to himself that he didn't know what to say and so he just left it at that.

* * *

Nathan had moved to sit on the couch, flicking on the TV and finding a new episode of CSI to watch and try and keep himself occupied until Eliot arrived back safely to put his mind at rest that all was well. It was a relief when he finally heard Eliot's key in the lock. Nathan hurried to greet him, relieved to see him calm, figuring that everything must have gone fine. Eliot answered all his questions quietly before saying he was tired and going back to bed. When Nathan made as if to join him, Eliot tried to persuade him to finish watching the TV.

Nathan had conceded at first but the longer he sat there in the quiet, the more concerned he became until he headed through to the other room to check on Eliot. At first it seemed as if nothing were amiss, Eliot was curled on his side, the covers drawn up high and most of the lights out, just the small light on Nathan's side of the bed remained. It wasn't until Nate undressed and slipped back into the bed that it became clear that Eliot was not asleep but was rigid and trembling with some as yet undefined tension. Nathan slowly expelled a breath to calm himself, letting his own frustrations slip away before he moved closer to Eliot, taking the younger man in his arms and holding him tight pressing a kiss to the back of his ear and waiting.

No words passed between them, but Nathan felt as the trembling slowly eased and stopped, the tension gradually left and Eliot slipped into sleep. It wasn't quite the response that Nathan had hoped for, but the end result was more or less where he had wanted to get.

Eliot woke slowly in the morning, lying peacefully in Nathan's arms to Nathan's relief. Eventually the alarm went off and both men began to move getting ready for the day ahead. Still no mention was made of the night's events. Only the barest of conversational interludes were passed as they both got ready for work and when they were in the car, Nathan finally gave into the temptation and asked, "Are you okay? About last night, I mean?"

"Fine," came Eliot's reply, indicating that the topic was firmly closed for the time being.

Nathan didn't really know where to head from there, whether to press for Eliot to open up or whether to let things lie for now. The traffic was light though and so the journey did not take long before they arrived at the office building. Both men left the car and headed for the elevators without breaking the silence and while Eliot didn't pull away, nor did he encourage Nathan's attempts at physical contact, a squeeze of his arm or a hand resting on his back.

Eliot went out twice during the course of the day on errands. He wasn't out long on either occasion, but Nathan couldn't fail to notice the pallor of his skin or the unhappy set to his expression when he returned. The agitated jerkiness to his movements and the underlying tremors that Nathan could feel when he rested a hand on his arm or back only served to illustrate further that there was something terribly wrong.

Eliot seemed keen to head home as soon as possible toward the end of the day and had made no attempt to invite anyone back for the evening. As he drove, Nathan spared the occasional glance away from the traffic across to the passenger seat wondering whether to say anything then or to wait until they got home. Eliot's body was twisted slightly away from him and his eyes were closed, face turned towards the door. Nathan figured it would be just as well not to probe further for the moment and to wait until they got home.

He was surprised when he turned off the car engine to find that Eliot had actually fallen asleep. He shook him gently, watching with affection as Eliot stirred, waking slowly with a still sleepy yawn and blinking with bemused consternation at being woken before he was ready. "We're home, El," Nate said warmly.

"Oh," Eliot yawned again. "Sorry, kinda tired. Come on then." He opened the car door, stumbling out in the direction of the elevator and blinking to adjust his eyes to the gleam of lights as the elevator door opened and he fumbled trying to press the right button for their apartment.

Nathan stepped in behind him, wrapped an arm round his shoulder and pulled him back. Eliot shrugged him off gently, saying, "Don't do that. I'm trying to stay awake. You let me get comfortable and I'll just fall asleep again."

Nathan laughed gently, "We're nearly home and you can sleep then." He ruffled Eliot's hair affectionately as Eliot moved closer and let his head drop onto Nathan's shoulder with an agreeable hum.

Once inside, they kept the lighting low as Nathan locked up and Eliot, still rubbing at his eyes, moved into the kitchen pulling the fridge door and staring at the contents until Nathan came up behind him. "Plans?" Nathan asked.

"Food . . ."came Eliot's gruff response.

"Really!" Nathan chuckled, "I'd never have guessed that's what you were thinking of. Anything in particular?" Eliot frowned, opened his mouth as if about to speak before closing it again and biting his lip indecisively. Nathan gently shifted him out of the way and took his place looking into the fridge, saying, "I think we have two choices, grilled cheese sandwiches or take-out. So any preference?"

"Grilled cheese," Eliot replied reaching forward for the cheese only for Nathan to knock his hand away and turn him.

"Go shower, El. Even I can manage to cook that and you're tired tonight." He was surprised by Eliot's easy capitulation but smiled as the younger man yawned again as he headed for the bathroom.

* * *

Eliot was back before long just as Nathan was putting the finishing touches to their quick meal. The two men ate in virtual silence and when they finished, Eliot cleared the plates and began to wash them while Nathan headed for a shower himself.

When Nathan returned, he found Eliot half asleep on the couch in front of a football game. He lowered himself down onto the couch beside the younger man, reaching an arm across and laying it round Eliot's shoulders he gave an insistent tug trying to get Eliot to shift into his embrace. "You look half asleep there. We could just head to bed?" Eliot shoved himself up off the couch with a nod of agreement and moved straight to the bedroom, leaving Nathan to turn off the lights.

When Nathan joined him, Eliot was already curled on his side under the covers, close enough to the center of the bed that Nathan knew he was genuinely tired, but not attempting to isolate himself from any offered affection. Nathan lay down behind him and as he drew the covers over himself, he felt Eliot shift closer and so he let his hand drift over Eliot's side to rest over his heart. He heard a small hum of approval as Eliot relaxed and soon fell back to sleep.

* * *

Eliot was still avoiding talking about anything more important than what to make for breakfast and whether Hardison would have finished the research he'd been doing the previous day when they got up the following morning.

In the end, Nathan was faced with the choice to forget all about the fact that _he_ wanted to talk about what was going on in Eliot's head or to actually pin Eliot down and _make_ him talk. In the end he went with the latter. He closed the kitchen door behind him and moved in on Eliot, pinning him against the kitchen counter , not allowing him the opportunity to escape and relying on Eliot to not _just_ punch his way out, which niggled at the back of his mind as the possible downside to the plan.

Eliot's eyes were wide and he bit his lip in obvious concern at the approach. Nathan could see him swallowing nervously and shifted one hand from its position on the counter's edge to Eliot's arm, hoping to soothe even as he asked the question, "What's going on, Eliot? You went out to get Parker, you went out twice yesterday and you haven't spoken about any of it at all but I know it's still playing on your mind."

Eliot attempted to shrug out of his position, tried to ease his own expression and body language into nonchalance, as he said, "Everything's fine. I don't know what you're talking about!" Nathan sighed and refused to accept that as his answer.

Eliot shook his head, finally giving in to Nathan's persistence, "It's fine, Nate, _I'm_ fine! Look, I went out. No, I didn't like it, it isn't what I wanted, but it's what I needed to do. Parker needed me, I couldn't leave her there . . . and . . . and having been out and survived, I have no excuse not to keep going out . . . Nate, I had to move on, it wasn't a choice, it was . . ."

"I know, I know that, but I need to know that you're going to be okay. I can see how you are, how you were when you got back . . ."

Eliot shrugged off Nathan's grasp and moved away breathing deeply. "I'm fine, now just back off. I know what I've been like . . . but I – I'm not a fucking woman. God, do we have to keep on re-hashing every little thing? Just leave it alone, will you?" Eliot pulled the door open with such force that it banged against the cupboard behind it as he stormed from the room leaving Nathan to quietly watch him head for the bedroom, slamming that door behind him as well.

* * *

Nathan sat down to wait, hoping that Eliot would calm down before too long so that they could both head for work. He figured it was hard trying to work out what to do for the best with Eliot. Nathan couldn't deny that Eliot was in part right, he did need to overcome the fear of going out alone and he probably was doing the right thing to try and tackle it head on, but that didn't mean he had to deal with the emotional fallout alone as well. Nathan recognized that Eliot probably needed to reassert himself as well, the need to prove that he could stand on his two feet, no matter whether he had Nathan there willing to share the burden or not.

It took about thirty minutes for Eliot to reappear. He strode determinedly into the room and headed straight for the table by the door with the keys on. A quick flick through the dish and he lifted the keys to Nathan's car out and turning to the other man, he said, "Well, are we going?" before flinging the key ring across to Nathan and moving to the front door.

Nathan followed swiftly, locking the door behind them and joining Eliot in the wait for the elevator to arrive. Eliot was intently watching the still closed doors as Nathan caught him up, let a hand fall to the small of Eliot's back and murmured, "Sorry. I just . . . I'm sorry." Eliot nodded, caught his eye and nodded again slower, seeming to relax. Nathan let his hand fall back to his own side and let the conversation drop.

* * *

Eliot persisted in going out. It was clearly putting him under stress, but each day he would leave the office, gradually staying away for longer and longer, travelling further and further away. Nathan took his cue from Eliot's earlier response, making himself available when Eliot returned, making sure to be more tactile but not actually broaching the situation as a topic of conversation. He'd let a hand fall to Eliot's knee if they were sat close enough, or step in as they moved so their shoulders would bump and at night, in the warmth of their bed, he would make sure to curl round Eliot, holding him tight and secure and kissing the back of his neck until the shivers of tension passed and Eliot gradually relaxed into sleep. He did it all without a second thought, but what he didn't do was talk about any of it.

And in its way, it worked. Over time, Eliot returned from the outings less and less fraught. At night, he headed to bed less and less tense, although he still seemed content to sleep curled up and held secure by his lover and Nathan grew to accept it . . . over time.

* * *

In a way Eliot's final step in dealing with his own anxiety about going out was also enough to push the team into being ready to deal with the monster behind his suffering. Hardison presented his findings to Nathan one afternoon when Eliot was out helping Sophie and Parker.

Nathan was . . . pleased was the wrong word, pleased implied the situation was acceptable and it wasn't. He was glad to be able to say that there was something they could do now, to see an end to the injustice, to get some sort of payback for Eliot. The immediate way forward was clear: when Eliot and the girls returned he would have a quiet word with him ensuring that when the girls left at the end of the day, they would stay later with Hardison. At that point they would get his opinion on the information they had found so far, they could then jointly agree on a way forward and on how much of the background information they would share with the girls. It was a start, with luck the beginning of the end for this chapter of their lives.

* * *

Eliot was sitting flawlessly still and quiet, his face expressionless as Hardison outlined his findings. It was an almost perfect guise, if . . . if Nathan didn't know better, didn't know that Eliot was never completely still at briefings, was never this silent as they discussed future jobs. Nathan wanted to move closer, wanted it to be just the two of them so he could really make sure Eliot was okay.

As Hardison's spiel came to an end, Eliot shifted, sighed then said, "I guess it's okay but . . . he won't fall for the deception with the guns, those he'll keep too close a track of himself. He likes guns, likes to _play_!" He sneered the word with all the venom he could, closed his eyes for a moment. Just before Nathan or Hardison could say anything, he began to speak again, "He likes them too much . . . he'd want to keep track of that himself. We – we need to look into one of his other business interests. The drugs, he'd want the money from the drug-dealing, but he'd have no interest in being involved beyond spending the money or taking revenge if something went wrong. Violence, that's what he wants to be involved in. The dirty money he'd have money men overseeing it, reporting to him, but," he snorted a half-laugh "he's not intelligent enough to do that himself. He'll have people he thinks he can trust or that he's holding something over, in honesty probably both."

"Really? He wouldn't just leave lackeys to do all the work?" Hardison asked tetchily.

"If Eliot says not, then he won't," Nathan confirmed abruptly. "We need to find something else."

Eliot looked across at Hardison with a slightly apologetic look to which Hardison responded with a reassuring grin as he realized what was really going on with Nathan. Eliot spoke again, his voice quiet, "He knows too much about guns for him to . . . none of you could con him face to face with that. It wouldn't work, he wouldn't fall for it and I. . ."

"You're not going anywhere near any of this!" While Nathan's response might have been expected, the fact that Hardison snapped the same words out at the same time had Eliot almost shrinking in his seat.

Nathan continued without hesitation, "You're not going anywhere near this, he knows you, knows too much about you and he wouldn't let you go if he had even a hint that you were involved. Not only does he know you, but we have to assume there is a possibility that some of his associates probably know you as well. He's had people track you down, set you up at the doctor's and the clinic, there are too many possibilities for people to know your face."

Nathan tried to settle his arm across Eliot's shoulders but Eliot just shrugged it off with the words, "We're working." Nathan nodded, murmuring an apology. This time Hardison cast a sympathetic look at Nathan realizing that he was trying to be both professional and supportive. Eliot shifted further away on the seat he was perched on, hands clenched nervously around the edge of the seat as if he was contemplating running.

Hardison asked if Eliot had any other ideas or any idea of how to infiltrate Polerentov's organization effectively. Eliot began to speak quietly, "If he found me, then I guess he could know all of you, if only by appearance so it means that whatever we do, we'd need to do from enough distance that we're not going to come into contact with him."

Hardison sighed as if that was probably going to be too much to ask. He'd been struck by how much Eliot had changed, how the cocky arrogance and underlying edge seemed to have vanished. It gave him cause for serious thought, if Eliot could be changed this much by this, it was a whole new level of violence and evil that he'd never even been on the edges of before. There was a thought that niggled at the back of his head that he should be steering clear of this sort of shit but he ignored it in favor of the part of him that said this team was a family of sorts, the closest he'd had since Nana had died. He'd have done anything for her and now . . . now he'd do anything for these people, knowing that they would do the same for him.

Eliot shifted nervously, "I have – I have one idea but . . . it's probably no – not good enough." He paused eyes firmly down towards the ground, not meeting either the optimism in Hardison's or the concern in Nathan's. "We don't even try to infiltrate his organization, we don't go anywhere near them . . . We . . . we head for the opposition . . . Aleksashkin. . . Aleksashkin was . . . same country, same goddamned war, same fucking mountain passes. When it was convenient they worked together : usually that meant they were up against NATO forces or something like that, and when it wasn't they were at each other's throats. They were almost as bad as each other but Aleksashkin drew the line at children, he didn't hurt children . . . never intentionally. I mean he'd set fire to a village or whatever but he would never have picked . . . picked kids and . . . and . . ." his voice was choked as he fell silent.

Nathan moved closer again, this time refusing to let Eliot shrug off the contact. Eliot's breathing hitched and he gave a full body shudder. Hardison slipped out of the room, giving the two men a little privacy for a few moments. As Hardison closed the door behind himself, Nathan slid both arms round Eliot, pulling him in and feeling as the younger man's breathing hitched unevenly as he tried to get himself under control. As Eliot calmed, regaining control of his breathing, he murmured into Nathan's shoulder, "I just can't stop seeing those little girls, they weren't really more than babies. It wasn't right, Nate, it wasn't right!"

"No, El, I agree. It wasn't and that's why we're going to figure this out and make him pay. I promise you two things, we'll stop Polerentov and you'll be safe. I promise you this, El."

He stopped Eliot from saying anything more with a kiss, not giving him an opportunity to deny the second promise. Nathan rested their foreheads together, his hands cupping Eliot's face, holding him close and felt as Eliot finally gave up fighting, as his breathing slowed and he calmed. There was no relaxation, merely acceptance of the course that lay ahead of them. "I promise, El."

A final whispered "okay" was enough. Nathan drew back with a warm smile of affection. His thumb coasted along Eliot's cheek, relieved to have Eliot's eyes on him, not shifting away. Slowly he drew back, letting his hands fall from Eliot's face before finally returning to his own seat just before Hardison returned to the room.

Eliot began to explain quietly, "Aleksashkin settled in this area as well. He's got his fingers in anything he thinks he can turn a profit in, literally." He swallowed before adding, "Drugs, guns, prostitution and money laundering. When we were apart, I – I did a job that brought me into contact with the edges of his organization. When I realized who it was I handled it differently and got out quick. I did some checking on them to find out what he was up to so that I could keep my distance. I thought . . . I thought we'd be okay here because we don't take jobs close to home. I figured that maybe the best way to stay under the radar was actually to be right under his nose, plus he would have been unlikely to be interested in me unless I got in his way. There wasn't the same kind of grievance between us, nothing personal. If anything I did him a favor getting rid of the Polerentovs. He was brought down later, about four months I think and it was Mikhael Polerentov who played a hand in it. He was trying to deal his way out of his own situation."

"Aleksashskin? Is this him?" Hardison turned the screen of his computer far enough that Eliot could see the picture on it. Eliot nodded sharply and Hardison turned the monitor back before beginning to type again.

"He's more intelligent, more seriously in control of his . . . his business. Mikhail is only in 'control' because his father's in prison and his brother's dead. He rules by violence, if someone messes up, it's death, no second chances. Aleksashskin actually watches over everything, knows what's happening, everyone reports to him. As far as we're concerned it's both his strength and his weakness. He doesn't just kill people unless it's personal. I mean people don't get away with anything, but they're loyal because he looks after his own and he makes it worth their while to not betray him. Mistakes are mistakes, and while he makes people pay for their mistakes, he also gives them the opportunity to fix it. His one failing on that is Mikhail Polerentov. Any of the others he would turn a blind eye to unless they were directly trying to interfere in his business, but not Mikhail."

Hardison looked up from his typing, bit his lip as if considering whether to ask why not but also trying to weigh up the possibility of really not wanting to know the answer. Eliot continued before he needed to say anything, "Not only did Mikhail sell him down the river for his own 'freedom' but he . . ." Hardison watched as Eliot swallowed nauseously, already pale complexion paling further and the grip he had on the arms of the chair tightened further. Finally Eliot looked up, staring at the blank wall between Nathan and Hardison. "He killed Aleksashkin's cousin. She was only fifteen."

Hardison felt the twist in his own stomach as he figured out that that probably wasn't all he'd done, judging by Eliot's appearance but he _really_ didn't want to know what had gone on before, what he did know of the man was more than enough. "So what are we targeting with Aleksashkin then? And how is it going to take Polerentov down?"

"We find something small shipment-wise. We steal it, sell it to some underling of Polerentov's or it would be even better if we could get them to steal it, think it was a good idea for getting more approval from Mikhail. Then we leave a trail for Aleksashkin to follow tracking it all the way back to Polerentov and, if we could, we should make it look like it was a trial run, like they were planning to divert something bigger and were checking out the logistics. It's the sort of thing that he'd believe of Mikhail. Mikhail's lazy and arrogant, if he thinks he can get away with something like that he would; he did it plenty before, stealing shipments en route to other bands. It used to cause hell, his father and brother despised it, but his attitude was that it was there for the taking. As far as he was concerned they were only allies with the other guerilla bands while they were fighting government and outside forces, it wasn't long term. If they'd overthrown the military, he'd have turned his attention to the other bands, wiping them out one by one."

Eliot paused, one hand scrubbing at his face. He took a deep breath before continuing, "I'm not saying his brother and father wouldn't have done that eventually, but they saw it as one battle at a time. They'd have also given the smaller bands the chance to 'join' them peacefully afterwards rather than just overpowering them."

Nathan nodded, "It's not a bad idea. Aleksashkin then tracks it back to Polerentov, and takes him out. How long will it take though?"

"I don't know. I guess it depends how long it takes to find a suitable initial shipment and create the trail for Aleksashkin to follow," Eliot said.

"I can get on it, I've already got the information we need on Polerentov's organization so I've got searches out now for Aleksashkin. I guess I'll be able to draw up the information about him and his associates over the next day or so." Hardison paused, seeming to watch the computer screen intently, as he thought through his next words. "Eliot . . . what – what were you doing out there? How did you get involved in . . . in all of this originally?"

He was surprised when Eliot actually looked up straight at him and began to answer, "I was 'employed' by Polerentov's father as a mercenary but . . . but I was also a plant for the NATO hierarchy who wanted inside information. They had people in a lot of the major guerilla bands that were willing to buy in extra muscle or those that were willing to take 'sympathetic supporters' from outside the country. I was supposedly paid by Polerentov to train his men and support them in the field."

"Fuck! You were undercover in a guerilla camp! Fuck, Eliot!" At Hardison's exclamation, Eliot's head dropped as if his vulnerability and lack of self-assurance had come rushing back in. "Shit! NATO employed you as a double agent! I mean I thought you were good, but that . . . Wow! It's like something out of Mission Impossible or something!"

"No, it was just a really shit job at a time when I needed money." Eliot shrugged, his eyes falling away.

"Why'd you take it? Seriously the money? I don't buy that or not unless it was . . ."

Eliot stood up, turning away from the other two men, walking over towards the window. He moved the blind back so he could look out over the illuminated city below then began to speak again, "It – It was a family thing, I needed the money." Hardison saw the confused look on Nathan's face and the tension in Eliot's shoulders and decided to let the matter drop.

Nathan seemed to agree with him and was rapidly wrapping up their conversation with a recap of the things Hardison was going to be working on. Both Nathan and Hardison left Eliot in peace at the window, giving him space and time, hoping that he would rejoin them when he was ready. When they'd finished, the two men agreed it was time to call it a night, so Hardison began shutting down his computer as Nathan moved to the window to talk to Eliot quietly. With a nod of assent, Eliot turned from the window and began to walk to the door. He paused by the desk and, looking at Hardison, said, "Night, Alec and thanks for all of this." He waved his hand at the computer and the papers.

"It's alright, bro. I want to help anyway I can." Hardison smiled warmly, surprised not only by the sincerity of the thanks but also by Eliot's use of his first name, somehow it seemed to add so much more weight to his words.

Nathan laid a hand in the small of Eliot's back, giving him a gentle push towards the door as he said his own thanks and goodbyes.

* * *

They stayed late again a few days later and this time things moved forward much faster with a real plan coming out of their efforts. There was a shipment of arms due to Aleksashkin that seemed like it would be relatively straightforward to waylay. Eliot was able to identify a likely candidate from the Polerentov camp who would be easy to lead to the shipment. His name was Beriznity and he was a man who would be keen to get recognition from Polerentov and not alert enough to identify the whole thing as a trap. He was also far enough away from Polerentov's main group of cronies to know Eliot, but not be aware of any current interest in him, so he wouldn't have any reason to be aware of the identities of the rest of the team.

They had a long discussion on the best way to infiltrate Polerentov's organization sufficiently to convince the mark to act on the shipment without drawing attention to themselves. It was eventually decided that Sophia and Nathan would be the best to send in, the most convincing under the circumstances. Eliot wasn't happy, but then every suggestion that had been made he'd objected to and in the end he was forced to admit that he was never going to be happy with any of them walking into this particular lion's den and as no one else was willing to walk away from this job, the only way forward was the agreed path.

More details were pulled together before the men parted company, Nathan sending a message to both Parker and Sophie to tell them to meet the following day to discuss their next job.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Eliot wondered whether Parker had some sort of psychic thing going on. He'd been working quietly in his own office since arriving first thing. The door was shut and if anyone had pressed the point, he probably wouldn't have been able to deny the fact that he was attempting to avoid everyone for as long as possible. His nerves were fraught and his temper tightly coiled, just waiting to snap if someone pushed the wrong way. Eliot remembered a time when that someone could easily have been Parker, he'd have never hurt her physically but he wouldn't have thought twice about saying what he thought. Now he found himself keeping to himself because he didn't want to lash out at any of them.

Parker had slipped into his room so quietly he hadn't heard the door but had looked up to find her standing on the other side of his desk, carrying a cup of his favorite tea. She smiled and held the cup out to him. He found himself softening at the gesture. "Thanks, sweetheart," he said warmly, surprised when she moved round the desk and perched on the arm of his chair.

"You okay?" she asked quietly.

He felt as another layer of tension dropped away and let himself smile at her as he promised her he was fine, seeing in her eyes the genuine concern and acknowledging the warmth that generated in him. He wasn't used to people caring like this, to people who truly wanted him to be well and safe and who would work to help him achieve that. In some respects it no longer even surprised him when he lifted an arm to cast it round her waist and pull her in for a hug. She leaned in closer and he held her tight, hoping his actions reassured her in the way she needed.

Her question was unexpected when it came, "The job . . . it's yours, isn't it? The doctor?"

"It's mine," he confirmed, before continuing with a sigh, "Not the doctor, but the person behind him . . . Someone I came up against in the past." Her grip tightened and he rubbed his hand in soothing circles on her back.

"What about the doctor, Eliot? What about him?"

Eliot drew back from her hug a fraction, just far enough to see her face, meet her eyes. He lifted a hand to sweep a fallen lock of hair from her face, then said, "We have to deal with the rest first, I don't know what we'll do about the doctor, but the rest has to come first."

She buried her face in his neck and he knew she was thinking of the doctor who started her boyfriend down the path to an overdose. He could do nothing but offer reassurances, words that he hoped would comfort.

When she finally drew back, he could see the red tinge to her cheeks and eyes and he didn't let go, keeping a hand resting on her arm, hoping that she understood the things he didn't know how to put into words. He hated to see her hurting like this.

* * *

They kept the plan simple. Nathan and Sophie would 'sell' the information about the arms shipment to the mark, Beriznity, and get out and that would be it. They'd all watch the fall-out from a distance with luck, although Eliot had admitted that if the two organizations were going to start a turf war, he still knew how to get information to some of his old NATO contacts. He knew that he could guarantee their involvement in tracking down Polerentov and without a doubt the prospect of capturing Aleksashkin as well would be the icing on the cake for them. Those forces would be glad of a reason to arrest and bring to court either of the leaders and as many of their subordinates as they could, an excuse to capture them and start the process to making them pay for their war crimes.

If the plan worked as they expected, with Hardison's help at leaving an unsubtle trail back to Polerentov, it would be nothing for Aleksashkin to work out who'd taken the arms shipment. Added to the fact that they weren't leaving the mark time to even try to be careful, he'd have the information he needed to act but not the time to spend being devious. The danger was that Beriznity would decide the information didn't leave him time to investigate, that he'd reject it in favor of staying safe and cozy. For the minute though there was nothing they could do about that but to hope that when the time came Nathan and Sophie's coercion would be enough to convince him.

* * *

The meeting was over and the various members of the team had separated to carry out their own individual plans for a while. Eliot had made an excuse and slipped away from both Parker's and Nathan's careful observation, heading out of the office to an undisclosed location.

He had no doubt that as soon as he left Nathan would have Hardison activate the GPS on his cell phone so he'd left it tucked away at the back of a drawer in his office. What he needed to do now, he didn't want any of the others knowing about, but some risks weren't worth taking.

As he walked, he tried to control his racing heart, the blood pounding in his temples, the bile churning in his stomach. He might not like what he had to do but that didn't mean to say he could just ignore it.

He'd been walking for fifteen minutes, keeping a careful watch for any sort of tail. There was still no sign so he stopped at the next bus stop and caught a bus that would take him nearer his destination. A ten minute bus journey had him at his next location, he jogged across the road and through the neighboring park to the coach and train station, knowing there would be plenty of cabs outside waiting to pick up incoming passengers. He gave the cab driver instructions and sat back for the journey, watching out of the window, trying to clear his mind and settle his unease.

Arriving at his destination, he looked at the building with distaste before leaning forward to talk to the cab driver again. He paid up the fare so far and asked the driver to hang on until his return. With agreement reached, he left the cab and headed straight into the building.

* * *

Nathan was relieved when Eliot returned. He had no idea where the younger man had been, but on his return he seemed pale and too twitchy for Nathan's peace of mind. The younger man didn't say a word, but after a brief visit to his own office, he slipped through the door to Nathan's office, closing and locking the door behind him before crossing the room and sliding unexpectedly into Nathan's embrace.

* * *

The final details were worked out and everyone was getting ready to head out of the office and put the plan into action. Sophie and Nathan were leaving together first as part of their disguise. Parker, Hardison and Eliot had already visited and planted extra listening and video devices at the meet point, so this time they would just follow behind in the van together. Eliot had been foul-tempered all morning and everyone was walking on egg-shells round him but as the time approached to leave, Nathan headed into Eliot's office and wrapped the younger man in a quick hug, promising him yet again that everything was going to be fine. Eliot held him tight, whispering back that he knew that and that it would all be over soon and that he was sorry. With a final tender brush of his fingers through Eliot's hair, Nathan pulled himself away and left to join Sophie and say his temporary goodbyes to the rest of the team.

As soon as he'd gone, Eliot moved. He closed and locked the office door before moving to the supposedly concealed compartment in his desk. It was one of those bizarrely obvious concealed compartments that no one would leave anything valuable in because it was more like an advertisement to thieves to take a look and steal whatever was inside. Eliot however, was hoping that he was using that to his advantage, counting on his light-fingered colleagues to not bother looking anywhere so obvious because Eliot wouldn't be foolish enough to leave anything there. A very simple and if he was right, effective double cross. After all, it wasn't like there was usually anything in it anyway.

He retrieved the contents, slid the compartment back into place, fixed himself up and headed for the door. He opened the door to find Parker standing outside, a clear expression of debate on her face as she eyed the lock on his door. She stepped back, the expression changing to one that was a mix of guilt and embarrassed humor at being caught.

"Did you want something?" he asked in a deceptively calm voice, hiding all trace of shock at seeing her and what she would have seen if she had decided to open it.

"You!" she laughed, smile bright, eyes filled with affection as she moved to fling her arms round him. He took a step back trying to avoid her grasp but it wasn't that simple as she persisted and soon had both arms wrapped round his waist. "It's going to be okay, you know. Nate's going to be fine. You don't need to worry," she assured.

He nodded, still trying to remove her arms from his waist. She frowned at his actions and started to draw back with a slight pout of indignation, but as she did, her hand brushed against something strange. The look in her eyes changed as she started to move forward again to investigate further, ignoring his attempts to move away and his now ominous glare.

"It's a gun!" she said, astounded. "But . . . Eliot, you don't like guns!"

He shrugged her off abruptly, far less gentle than she had come to expect over the previous weeks. "Leave it, Parker! It's nothing!"

"It's not nothing," she persisted, "It's a gun! What are you doing with a . . .?"

As her voice began to rise, he clamped a hand over her mouth, his voice dropping to a menacing level, "Shut up! Got it? Shut your mouth!"

She nodded, eyes wide and shocked. "Right," he seemed calmer. "We have a job to do and you're going to keep this to yourself and not say anything to anyone because this has nothing to do with anyone but me. Clear?"

He slowly removed his hand from her mouth and let her go, gesturing out of his office and back towards the conference room. She hurried away with him following closely on her heels. As they walked in, Hardison looked up and reached for the comms that they would need before leaving, holding them out for the other two to take.

Eliot was all business, fitting and activating his comm immediately, relieved to hear Nate's voice as he chatted to Sophie in the car as they were driving. Eliot took a deep breath that settled his own nerves somewhat. He turned to Hardison to check that all was well as far as the younger man was concerned before announcing that he would go and fetch the van and meet Parker and Hardison downstairs. He glared at Parker who was still turning her earpiece over and over in her hands rather than fitting it. He crossed his arms, not shifting to do as he'd said, until her eyes met his and she looked sheepish and instantly began to fit her earpiece. Once it was in and activated, Eliot nodded and turned to leave.

Hardison had barely even noticed the exchange as he gathered the last of the equipment he wanted to take down to the van. He couldn't, however, fail to notice the way Parker kept peering out of the door to check that Eliot had actually left the immediate vicinity and he found himself watching her rather than finishing his packing. When she turned back and saw him looking at her, he saw relief flood her expression as she started wildly gesturing at her ear and doing some sort of bizarre mime with her hands. "Parker?" he said. "Parker, what the hell are you doing?"

She rolled her eyes finishing with a definite glare in his direction, just ahead of Eliot's voice over their earpieces, snapping, "Parker!"

She leapt backwards, giving Hardison yet another glare before replying sweetly, "I was just trying to get him to hurry up, Eliot. He's taking forever and we're still not ready to go. You tell him!"

Eliot's voice responded immediately, "Hardison, get your ass into gear. We need to go. Got that?"

Hardison answered smartly, his words to Eliot a reassurance, even as he gave Parker a dark look. Like he really needed to be on Eliot's bad side, even now the guy could be seriously scary and Hardison didn't want to find out how long Eliot could hold a grudge and have Parker's shenanigans coming back to bite him in the ass.

He snatched up a bag and thrust it in Parker's direction, before turning back to pick up the last of the things he needed and heading for the door, deliberately calling, "Come on, Parker. We haven't got all day!" even if the girl was actually walking in front of him. Nobody else needed to know that after all and when she tried to kick him in the shin when they were in the elevator, he just pushed her away and said, "Stop it. If I drop this shit, it's just going to take us even longer to get going and we haven't got the time for it." She subsided with a pout but not a word passed her lips.

As they exited the building, Eliot was already waiting outside, glaring at them both ominously. Hardison headed straight for the back of the van opening the door and climbing in. As he turned to close the door behind him, Parker already had a foot on the step and was reaching out with one hand to pull herself in. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked.

"I'm going to sit back here," she said simply.

"Parker, get your pretty little ass up here now!" snapped Eliot over the comms, his words met with an eyebrow raise from Hardison.

"No, Eliot. I'm going to help Hardison set up back here so we're ready quicker. You want that, don't you? Everything ready quicker." Her words were met with an irritated grunt from the front cab.

In the end it was Nathan's voice that solved the problem, "Eliot, Sophie and I are fine, everything's going to plan. We're not taking any risks here. Just leave Parker alone. If she wants to help Hardison and he's okay with that, let her stay with him in the back." They could all hear the soft affection in his voice along with the understanding of why he thought Eliot was snapping at everyone.

Eliot grunted consent and started up the engine immediately. A moment or two later he said, "I hope you're all settled back there because I'm starting moving now," before they felt the pull of the van out into the traffic as they headed towards their destination.

Parker was quiet following Hardison's instructions to the letter, although her mind was elsewhere wondering what she was going to do about Eliot and the gun. She didn't want to say anything out loud which was now exactly the same as telling Nathan. She couldn't do that not here, not now when a loss in his concentration could send the whole con spiraling out of control and put them at risk. Hardison seemed to be content pottering with his gadgets alone now as the stream of instructions had stopped. She sighed, not noticing as Hardison turned to look at her with a frown.

A moment later she felt a pencil and pad of paper thrust into her hands. He'd done that before, when he wanted her to be quiet and settle down, told her just to doodle or something. She took the offered items and sat back letting her hand guide her pencil aimlessly across the page without thinking.

When she focused in on what she was doing properly a few minutes later, she saw the visual of exactly what she needed to tell Hardison, a picture of a gun and a picture of Eliot. She paused for a moment before deciding to act on her gut feeling and with a nudge to his side, she handed Hardison the piece of paper. He grunted and set it to one side as he continued with what he was doing. She found herself wanting to pinch him hard, or maybe poke him in the ribs with her pencil. She nudged him though and he grunted, "Parker! If you're bored, you can try and climb through the window to the front and sit with Eliot but I'm busy."

"If you're not careful, I'll do that and then you'll be sorry," she retorted, although even she couldn't quite work out why he'd be sorry in particular but at least he hadn't given her away.

He turned to look at her the same confusion clear on his face about how she was going to make him sorry by moving and leaving him in peace to concentrate. She reached across for the piece of paper and gave it to him again. "Very nice, Parker," he said, before his eyes really focused on the picture, at which point his expression changed and a look of wide-eyed horror spread rapidly across his features and she raised her hands as if to say 'Well!'.

"Where?" he mouthed silently. She leant forward patting the back of the waistband of his jeans. He rolled his eyes, adding a silent "Fuck!" before turning back to her with a "Why?"

She shrugged, not sure enough of the answer to that question. She'd got two ideas for the answer, one was marginally more likeable than the other but neither was good really. At Hardison's silent "What are we gonna do about it?", she couldn't help but shrug again. The whole point of telling him was the hope that he'd have an answer, but clearly that wasn't working out the way she hoped.

Hardison sighed, "This gig better go down right."

When Eliot replied with a "Yes, it had better goddamned go down right, Hardison! Why are you having second thoughts or something? Is there a problem?" Hardison and Parker looked startled, unsure what to do or say to get past the likelihood of an interrogation.

Nathan unwittingly saved the day on that score, with his usual reassuring calm. "Eliot, everything is fine. We're in place now, the mark has made contact and confirmed he's coming. Hardison, I am certain, is all set. So there is not a problem. You just need to settle in for the wait and be calm. Do not leave that van, Eliot, unless I tell you to. Got that?"

Eliot's response was a sulky but grudging agreement that he would stay in the van until Nathan asked him to move, although a moment or two later, he added, "What if Sophie says she needs me?"

"If Sophie says she needs you, you can leave the van, but she isn't going to say it, so get comfortable, you're there for the long-haul." Nathan laughed gently.

It solved Hardison and Parker's immediate problem with Eliot distracted from Hardison's slip but when Parker passed him a note saying, "We could tie him up, then he can't do anything stupid," Hardison wasn't sure which of his companions in the van was the more certifiable.

* * *

The meeting went smoothly, Nathan all business and Sophie and Beriznity flirting outrageously enough that he wasn't bothering to ask them anything really challenging. When he handed over the briefcase of cash, things moved to a swift conclusion with Nathan and Sophie departing quickly, heading for the car and from there indirectly back to the office, while the rest of the team remained behind watching and tracking the mark.

When the mark headed back to his own base and began to go through the information and make his plans, Hardison couldn't believe how easy it was and how he hadn't even needed to hack his way into the mark's computers really because the guy was reading the information aloud, and writing it down slowly, spelling it out to himself as he went. It was Eliot who threw some light on that, pointing out that the guy was having to read what was for him at least a foreign language, something that Hardison had not thought to consider. It was Parker who asked why he wrote down his plan in English, why not write that in his own language.

Eliot took a moment before answering, "Probably means he's going to use some Americans to actually do the job. Got to be sure he's got his instructions right, I've seen it before they'll spend hours making sure their mercenaries understand what to do, although not necessarily that it's a dead end job from which they're not expected to return."

Nathan's voice came over the comms, "We're back at base, are you all coming back now? The briefcase and money cleared every check, there's no problem this end."

Eliot immediately started up the van and, without warning his passengers, pulled out into the traffic, driving directly back to the office. He'd no sooner parked the van and tossed Parker the keys than he was running for the building ready to head up to the office, leaving Parker and Hardison to bring the rest of the equipment in. "Nice, Eliot, nice!" Hardison moaned. "Don't you help us or anything!"

* * *

When Eliot burst out of the elevator doors as soon as they were wide enough for him to fit through the gap, Nathan was waiting for him and Eliot found himself stopping dead, unsure and embarrassed, until Nathan stepped forward and gave him a quick reassuring hug and a peck on the cheek. It was enough to ease his anxiety but nothing more and so with a smile Nathan stepped back and gestured towards the conference room, "As soon as the others get up here, we'll have a quick debriefing session and then I figure we're done for the day." Eliot nodded, moving away in the direction Nathan had indicated, unaware of Nathan's saddened expression as he watched him go.

* * *

The debriefing hadn't taken long and no one had objected when Nathan said it was time to call it a day and head home. The plan to meet back in the office the following day met with agreement all round.

Nathan and Eliot had left the office first, Eliot just following Nathan's guidance, almost unaware of his colleagues he was so lost inside his own thoughts. Nathan was aware that the others, particularly Hardison, probably weren't heading home for a while yet, but he figured they were all becoming more familiar with Eliot's expressions now and Nathan was pretty certain that he wasn't the only one wondering how much time and energy Eliot had spent in the past, shutting himself off from the world in order to survive. Since his illness it had become more apparent; when things ventured into areas that Eliot couldn't cope with, it was as if he shut down, he could carry on functioning and following instructions but his eyes were blank, his face like stone and his answers became monosyllabic. Nathan knew that if he touched Eliot, he'd feel the tension running through the younger man's body, like a bow string ready to snap.

The car slipped out into the traffic and the two men were quiet as they traveled. Nathan was surprised when, as they sat at a stoplight, Eliot's hand slipped over to rest on his leg as if he needed to be sure that Nathan was fine. Nathan let his hand drop to cover Eliot's giving it a gentle squeeze before lifting his hand back to the steering wheel and shifting into gear again ahead of accelerating.

At home, Eliot was tactile in a way he never normally was, constantly touching and petting as his eyes raked over Nathan again and again seeming to check for non-existent injuries. In the end Nathan knew he had to put a stop to it, had to set Eliot's mind at rest. Taking him by the hand, Nathan led Eliot into the bedroom.

* * *

Eliot was still asleep when Nathan got up again. He moved quickly across to where Eliot had left his clothes and with a quick ruffle through he found the gun and took it with him as he left the room.

By the time Eliot woke up and joined him, he was in the kitchen putting together a few bits to eat. Eliot's face was grim, so Nathan decided to get straight to the point, "It's locked away in the safe, unloaded for now."

Eliot nodded but wouldn't meet his eye and didn't say a word. "Okay, I'll start then. Tell me why you had the gun. I know you don't like them, it's not like you don't say that often enough." Nathan left what he was doing and moved closer, his presence demanding an answer.

Eliot's hand was trembling as he reached out and rested it on Nathan's hip and Nathan couldn't help but respond by covering it with his own, trying to offer some reassurance. "I got it to keep you all safe. If there was a problem, I – I'm not enough."

Nathan raised both hands to capture Eliot's face, raising it up so that he could kiss him soundly. "It's done now, the gun goes away, we don't need it in our home, Eliot. We don't _want_ it in our home. Did you go out and buy it just for today?"

Eliot shook his head before saying, "No . . . I have a lock-up. I have equipment stored . . . things I need from time to time. I still don't like guns, but there have been times when . . . times . . ."

"When you had no choice but to carry arms. I get it. Now though, we're done. You don't need them now, so it can go back, El. We don't need it."

* * *

They were in the office in the morning and Hardison was giving a run down of the developments overnight. The mark had fallen hook, line and sinker for the con. He had already contacted a number of people as he put together a team to carry out the heist. Things were looking good. There wasn't much more they could do now. Hardison would continue to watch and monitor to ensure things continued as planned but there wasn't really anything to do at this stage.

Parker and Sophie both spent time in the gym with Eliot but once he was done with that, Nathan figured it was time to take him home again. While the others could all have concentrated on other work that they had in line for the future, Eliot couldn't. Nathan refused to allow Eliot to be in a situation he couldn't cope with, he wasn't going to let him self-combust and he knew two positive ways to keep Eliot occupied; the bedroom and the kitchen. Inviting the others for dinner that evening, he hustled Eliot back out of the office and into the car.

They stopped on the way home to pick up supplies and Eliot retreated to the kitchen as soon as they were in, mixing up a marinade amongst a few other preparations. Once things quieted in the kitchen, Nathan figured it was time for him to be a little more active in his means of distraction and it didn't take him long to get Eliot into the bedroom and naked.

* * *

They'd showered and tidied round the apartment and Eliot was back in the kitchen before the others had arrived and the smells as Nathan welcomed the rest of the team into their home were enticing. As Parker and Hardison chatted amiably with Nathan, Sophie went through to the kitchen to find and check on Eliot for herself. She chatted for a while, asking questions about his cooking and getting tips for herself. She saw as the tension in him eased a fraction as he answered her questions and they swopped stories of food eaten and cooked in various countries around the world. It was something she realized they had in common, something the two of them had never caught on to before. She could never claim to be a chef of his caliber but unlike her colleagues, she knew enough about food and cooking to keep talking with him for long enough for him to be comfortable, long enough for them to really connect.

When Nathan came in a few minutes later in search of drinks for their guests, he smiled broadly at Sophie as he poured her a glass of white wine and set an open beer in Eliot's reach before taking drinks for himself, Hardison and Parker through to the other room.

It didn't take long before Sophie was helping Eliot bring dishes out of the kitchen to the table and the others were joining them ready to eat. It was clear to all of them as they complimented the food that Eliot was gradually relaxing, tension ebbing from him in waves as the rest of the team laughed and joked around him, as the old smirk they were all used to graced his face for moments at a time.

With the meal over and everyone stuffed and content, Parker helped Eliot clear the now empty plates and dishes back into the kitchen loading them swiftly into the dishwasher. As Eliot turned back from turning the dishwasher on, he was surprised to find himself engulfed in a hug from his young team mate as she whispered, "You frightened me, you and the gun."

He flushed slightly, looked away as he awkwardly patted her back and replied, "There was nothing to worry about, I had it all under control."

"Did you, Eliot? Did you really?" she murmured softly, drawing back. "Where is it now?"

He left out a quiet huff of air turning away from her. "Locked in Nathan's office for now and don't even think of breaking in to get it. I'll know!"

"Wouldn't want it, Eliot. I just don't want you to have it either. You don't like guns. Can we go back and join the others now? Hardison's going to tell us what's happened so far." Eliot nodded, pulling himself together again and turning to rest his hand on her lower back and guide her back into the other room, but she turned again and gave him another swift hug before racing away and leaping over the back of the couch to land beside Hardison with a "Well, come on, dude. Tell us what's happening. We haven't got all night you know."

* * *

**_Author's Note - _**_Thanks for still sticking with me :D Constructive Feedback is appreciated. x_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 11**_

Once the heist had gone down according to plan, Nathan couldn't get Eliot away from the office at all, not to eat or sleep. After two days of Eliot hovering over Hardison well beyond the point of being annoying, Hardison cracked when Eliot asked for what felt like the fiftieth time in the last half hour if there was anything new. "Get out! Get out now! This is my office. Go! Go into your office, sit down and shut up!" He drew a breath to continue when Nathan rushed into the room to try and calm the two men but Eliot was just stood there looking somewhat sheepish as if, at Hardison's outburst, he'd realized just how annoying he was being.

With a muttered apology, he turned to leave, only for Hardison to say, "Just go and sit down in there, man. I'll be through in ten minutes, I promise. I'll set your computer up so you can see all the feeds you need. Just give me ten, huh?" Eliot nodded and left quietly. Hardison turned away from Nathan guiltily, muttering, "It's been non-stop, man. He's been breathing down my neck for hours. I just – I couldn't . . . I didn't mean . . . I'll just get this done, you know, feed through some of the information to his computer and I'll go show him so he can watch as the info comes in. Everything's cool. Everything's going to be cool."

Nathan accepted the explanation and the offer to feed the information through to Eliot's office before leaving. When he got to Eliot's office, he found him pacing the room like a caged lion. Eliot turned abruptly at the sound of someone at his door and Nathan approached him seeing as he sighed. "I just . . ." he started then shrugged. "My fault," and he left it at that.

Nathan crossed to stand behind him and began gently massaging his shoulders. It was a few minutes later when Eliot spoke again, "I just want this all to be over and done."

"I know."

Eliot lifted a hand to his face for a moment then continued, "I was driving him up the wall. I knew it, but I couldn't make myself stop. What's wrong with me, Nate?"

"Nothing's wrong with you. You're stressed and worried that's all. Hardison said he's going to set it up so the information comes through here too and he'll show you how to follow it. Then you can see for yourself that everything's going fine. He understands, but he can't concentrate enough on what he's doing if you're there too."

Nathan moved them both toward the window, sliding his hands down Eliot's arms until he could capture his hands, then brought them forward to rest over Eliot's stomach. The two men stood quietly until Hardison cleared his throat in the doorway at which point they broke apart.

"You want to come over here," Hardison asked, gesturing at the computer on the desk. He crouched beside Eliot's chair and started to open windows on the desktop. Once he had it set how he wanted he began to explain, "This one shows calls to and from Aleksashkin's cell phone. You click here to listen. While that line is flat, there's no call, once it begins to move someone's talking, soundwaves, man, you know. This one works the same way but it's Polerentov's cell." He looked at Eliot to check he was following. As soon as Eliot nodded, he continued. "Okay, this one shows emails received by Aleksashkin and this one is Polerentov. Down here this box is the guy from the other day's cell phone. That's enough to keep you ticking over for now, okay. I'll let you know if anything else relevant is thrown up by any of the crawlers or anything, man, but to get all those feeds through here . . . it's just like masses of data and most of it has nothing to do with anything we're interested in. I'm just watching it, just to be sure."

"Thank you," Eliot responded quietly.

"No worries and I'm just down the hall if you've got a problem, but I better get back, there's other stuff I'm monitoring like I said. You're gonna be okay now?"

Eliot nodded and turned his attention back to watching the boxes on the screen as Hardison left for his own office. Nathan grabbed a spare chair and pulled it up alongside Eliot's, settling back to watch the screen along with Eliot.

A short while later both Beriznity and Polerentov's cell phones showed that calls were taking place. Eliot moved the mouse to activate one of them but hesitated as if he wasn't sure which to go for. He clicked on Beriznity's and when it was clear that he was talking to Polerentov, he became even more focused. Nathan sat back, wondering what Hardison was doing about the fact that the conversations were being held in a foreign language. Eliot's eyes closed and his expression became even more intent on listening. When he began to make brief comments, Nathan found himself stunned.

"He's saying he has 'produce' for Polerentov, new, fresh 'produce'." There was a pause as the conversation continued, then Eliot gave a brief explanation, "The 'produce' comes from the farmer over the way, who steals fields and claims them as his own – Aleksashkin. He says . . . umm . . . it is good quality 'produce' that Polerentov will like, something like the 'produce' his father would have been proud to call his own. He's talking about how much he paid for the information to get the 'produce' and how much he thinks they will be able to recoup from it. He . . . I don't believe it . . . he's saying he believes there is more where that came from, ripe for picking! God, he's taking the whole 'produce' thing too far! Anyway, he thinks there will be more shipments and that they would be able to acquire the goods from at least one of those shipments within a few weeks. He's arranging to visit Polerentov at his home tomorrow at eleven in the morning."

The call ended and Eliot leant back in his chair again, eyes fluttering in the light as he opened his eyes again. He saw Nathan staring at him in astonishment and began to frown in confusion, unsure of what he'd done. "You understood all that? Just . . . just like that? Shit, Eliot! That's amazing!"

Eliot shrugged it off, just saying defensively, "It's nothing, I just learnt a bit while I was out there working."

"It's not nothing, El. God, you just don't realize how talented you are at all, do you?"

Before Eliot could get a word out, Hardison appeared in the door. "Sorry guys, I guess you heard the call . . . I hadn't really thought about the whole 'they're foreigners' thing. It's going to take . . . well I don't know how long it's going to take to work out what they were talking about."

"No, it's not. Eliot's got most of the details from that conversation."

"He has, oh that's good then . . . He has? How?!"

"He was translating as they were speaking," Nathan said.

"He what?! Eliot!! Eliot translated that as they talked! Seriously?" Hardison was shocked.

Eliot shrugged, "It wasn't that hard. I – I was out there a while working and undercover and everything, I needed to have a rudimentary grasp of the language to be able to survive and do my job." Nathan smiled behind him, rolling his eyes at Eliot's understated words.

Just at that moment, another call showed up on the monitor beside Eliot. His attention was immediately drawn away from the other two men and he leant forward, this time clicking to hear Aleksashkin's conversation. Yet again the voices and words meant nothing to Nathan or Hardison, but Eliot began to translate. "The guy who's called is one of the guards on the truck they held up . . . he's giving Aleksashkin information, telling them the names he heard, they're American names . . . no there's one. Huh! I don't believe it."

Eliot listened for a moment or two longer before explaining, "It's Beriznity! The guy employed people to accompany him on the heist, not to go and do it for him. Probably didn't have any friends of his own who he could coerce or employ into doing it for him and he wasn't going to send a bunch of people who he didn't trust in there without him! Idiot!"

"So?" Nathan prodded. "What exactly are they talking about?"

"The guard is telling Aleksashkin that Beriznity was on the job. They'll both know soon, if they don't already, that Beriznity works for Polerentov, but they probably don't know that he was the driving force behind it. Aleksashkin is giving the guard a warning find Beriznity or he makes up the cost of the missing freight."

As the call ended, Eliot pushed himself away from the computer again, turning back to Nathan and Hardison. He caught sight of the look of astonishment on Hardison's face and asks defensively, "What? What are you looking at?"

Hardison gawped for a moment, before addressing Nathan, "Didn't he just say he'd only got a rudimentary grasp of the language? I mean, Hell, translating that fast, that fluent . . . that's more than rudimentary, man!"

Nathan laughed at both Hardison's reaction and Eliot's confused embarrassment. He moved across the room to pat Eliot on the back and said, "We'll be sending you in Sophie's place next time we need someone to be a foreigner, dude!" Eliot looked horrified, even as Hardison left the room, still spluttering his surprise, on his way to 'tell the others' despite Eliot's protestations.

Eliot and Nathan settled down beside the computer again to wait, but there were no more phone calls in the next hour and after that the few that Aleksashkin took were all nothing to do with Beriznity. Time was dragging and at one point Nathan had left the room in search of paperwork that he could do while he waited alongside Eliot.

Nathan was amazed at how quiet Eliot was sitting, but it seemed that just being able to track the flow of information on the boxes in front of him was enough to settle him. He could see and hear the information that came in without needing to constantly pester Hardison.

The sound of Aleksashkin's phone being answered had Nathan looking up. He reached across to squeeze Eliot's thigh as he saw the younger man biting his lip. Eliot nodded in acknowledgement of the support but his attention was understandably on the call.

A moment later Eliot pulled paper and a pen closer to him and began to write something down. He scribbled for a moment or two after the call disconnected, then sat back with a sigh. He looked across at Nathan and nodded before saying, "He knows that Beriznity was working for Mikhail. He has . . . he's setting up people to try and infiltrate the organization to find out where the shipment went to. He already has someone trying to hack into Polerentov's computer system . . . I've got the names of the different people he's using and what he's got each of them working on . . . I'm gonna go and give them to Hardison. The information might be useful to him, right?" He was pushing his chair back as he finished speaking and Nathan confirmed that passing the information on was the right thing to do.

* * *

It was long after they normally went home for the day, but Eliot was still watching the computer intently. All the men's phones had been quiet for the last two hours and Nathan decided enough was enough. He'd left Eliot for a while and worked in his own room, met with Parker and Sophie before they'd left for the day. He'd also gone through to Hardison's office to find out how the younger man was faring. Hardison was clearly tired, the strain of the days of surveillance beginning to tell.

"It's been quiet for a while now," Nathan said quietly when Hardison looked up.

Hardison agreed, then added, "My concentration is going . . . I'm going to have to call it a day, it's not making any sense to me at all, even the stuff that's in English! I'm setting it up to track for certain triggers, if any of them happen it will call my phone and I'll get straight on it, but what I've got here, there's nothing right now and I'm just burning out my eyes and my brain."

"You need to get home and get some proper rest. If you're setting it up to ring you, can I ask you to call us. I'm going to try and pry Eliot away from the computer. The waiting . . . it's hard on us all I guess, but for him . . . Anyway, I'm going to try taking him home, but a guarantee from you that you will get in touch if there's anything, maybe he'll have a little rest at least."

"Definitely, man. If there's anything at all, I'll let you know as soon as. This is gonna take me about another ten, maybe fifteen minutes and then I'm going to be getting out of here."

* * *

Eliot was still staring at the computer screen when Nathan walked back into the room a few minutes later. "El, we're going home, so I guess you need to make sure you've got your stuff together."

"I'll stay. Keep an eye on this. It's no good if they make another phone call and Hardison doesn't know what they're saying . . ."

Nathan cut him off, "No, El. Hardison is going home as well. There is nothing more to be done for now. Hardison is setting up his computer so that it will, I dunno, contact him if there is anything tonight and if it does, he will call us as well. We _are_ going home and if you don't pack up now, I will get Hardison to pack up for you, so you'll be sitting here with nothing to do."

"I'm not a child!" Eliot snapped.

"No, you're not, but I am looking out for you when you can't _just_ do it for yourself!" Nathan ignored the glare, passing it off with a nonchalant shrug. "You better get used to it," he finished as he walked towards the door.

Eliot kicked out at the desk, the whole thing shuddering under the impact, but Nathan didn't turn, just kept walking out of the room, leaving Eliot alone with his frustrations. He made his way back to Hardison's office to ask if Hardison could turn off Eliot's machine remotely. With a frown, Hardison agreed that he could if it was needed.

Hardison was just finishing up when Nathan returned and said, "I want you to do it." Unhappily Hardison nodded and started to do as Nathan had asked. He didn't like taking away Eliot's choice but he had understood Nathan's concerns. Looking at the screen before him, he suddenly said, "I don't need to, he's done it himself." He moved back from his machine and said, "I'm off now, I'll see you tomorrow, if not before. Night."

As he passed Eliot's office, he shouted out another goodnight before heading for the elevator and the journey home.

* * *

Nathan couldn't really blame Parker and Sophie for finding things to do that took them out of the office, Hardison was still tired when he'd returned that morning, he and Eliot had barely had any decent sleep between their worrying and Eliot's nightmares. Nathan just wanted it all to be over so they could start putting it all behind them.

* * *

Over the next day or two, more information filtered through: slowly at first, gradually picking up in speed and quantity. Hardison had plenty to work through and Eliot was kept busy listening to recordings of phone conversations and translating them. The two of them were working continually and passing their findings on to Nathan, leaving him to piece it all together and work out whether it was all going to plan.

Nathan was pleased. 'Going to plan' was an understatement. It was damned near perfect. . . and then Eliot burst into his office, buzzing with the information he'd extracted from the latest calls.

"The name . . . the name is . . ." he panted, eyes wild.

Nathan shot up from his chair and round to catch hold of the young man, already mentally praying that this wouldn't be too terrible. "They're bringing in another guy to Aleksashkin's search team. His name is Walker . . . Arnold Walker!"

Nathan watched Eliot, waiting for some clue as to the significance of the name and when it came, he found himself shocked out of breath, "He was my NATO contact, he was the one who wanted to take them both down, the one who planted us undercover!"

Nathan sat down, the shock too much to process at once. Moments later he pulled himself together and headed in search of Hardison, dragging Eliot along with him. "Hardison, you have to look into this now! It's urgent." Looking back at Eliot, he added, "We have to be absolutely certain he hasn't switched sides. We can't let this all go wrong now!"

Eliot gave Hardison the details and they spent the next half hour anxiously awaiting an answer. When it came, it was a relief. The plan was beyond perfect now. Aleksashkin was bringing in Walker to help him track down Mikhail Polerentov with no idea that the man he was paying was actually undercover trying to collect evidence against him.

According to Eliot, Walker had been pretty influential when he'd been dealing with him and also pretty determined to bring down the guerilla bands that were threatening to bring down their own country's government purely for greed. He'd been collecting information against them for years according to Eliot and would be very keen to get them both in front of as many courts for as many crimes as he could.

Hardison checked out what was happening behind the scenes for Walker and was able to track down his real team's network, hacking in and triggering a few extra searches into Aleksashkin's organization to make sure their searching began to throw up some of the extra information about the heist and the shipment that Polerentov had supposedly stolen.

* * *

Things were now moving faster than any of them could have imagined. Within days, Walker had both Polerentov and Aleksashkin in custody along with many of their subordinates and associates. Cops, FBI, international authorities were all involved by this time as they began to discover the true extent of their criminal actions. Hardison tweaked a file or a search here and there to ensure that their computers continued to throw up more and more actual related crimes. The searches needed tweaking; it wasn't like he needed to consider manufacturing anything, just making sure that the authorities found everything. He was exhausted and running on orange soda and adrenaline alone but he felt good, really good!

Nathan was walking round with a self-satisfied smile, the knowledge of a job well done and justice about to be served written all over his face and Sophie seemed relieved. It was only Parker and Eliot who weren't smiling and it took the others a while to notice, so high was their own euphoria.

Parker had taken to hanging off Eliot, constantly dogging his footsteps, sitting in his room for hours on end and moving in to touch him as if terrified that he was just some sort of mirage.

Eliot was almost as bad, jumpy at contact from anyone other than Parker, on his guard like he hadn't been in what now seemed like forever. He knew it, but he couldn't control it. Everyone, except Parker, was so proud of themselves, so pleased of a job well done, but he knew . . . he knew the truth. It was too little . . . too little, too late for too many families destroyed in a guerilla war in a country thousands of miles away and of little interest to the world outside its own borders. And for that he knew, he could never forgive himself.

Out there, in the world beyond their office, a doctor walked free, a doctor who had fed him lies and Vicodin until he'd almost killed himself. His own stupidity had played a part but that man, that monster had held his life in his hands and toyed with it like he was worth nothing all in exchange for Polerentov's money. Eliot knew what it felt like to be nothing and he knew what it felt like to be loved and that bastard of a doctor had nearly stolen all the good things he'd worked so hard for from him.

Parker walked into his office, yet again, her face a mask of indifference at first glance, but Eliot knew to look deeper; he could see the pain in her eyes and he found himself opening his arms to her, welcoming her in, wanting to protect her in any way he could. "We'll make him pay, I promise, Parker. We will make him pay," he whispered into her hair, feeling as her arms tightened around him.

* * *

It was Sophie who noticed Parker's behavior first, who shut herself in Parker's office with the younger woman and wouldn't let her out until she had some truths. She got truths, enough for her to know why Parker was unhappy and to know how to begin to fix it. She also had enough to know that Parker was still hiding something. Once she'd admitted her concerns about Eliot's doctor, Sophie was struck by how right Parker was, how there was no way the man could be left to escape unnoticed.

Sophie breezed into Nathan's office thirty minutes later and took the self-satisfaction away as she pointed out that they were leaving a job half done before describing how she'd noticed the isolation of both Parker and Eliot and how they seemed to be providing one another with the support they both so desperately needed, and in truth, needed from someone who wasn't as torn up by the situation.

Nathan headed for Parker first, knowing that for this young woman he would promise her the world and do his utmost to make sure he delivered. Once he had her alone and looked properly at her, he could see the pain, see the torment she was still under, read in her shadowed eyes of sleepless nights and worried days. "Do you want to tell me what's eating you up? Let me help you," he asked.

She shrugged and tried to step round him to head out of the door, but he blocked her way, catching her arm gently to turn her back and prevent her escape. "Let's talk, Parker. You're still worrying about Eliot's doctor right? About the fact we haven't dealt with him yet? I haven't forgotten. Believe me, I won't ever forget or forgive what he's done, but first we _have_ to wait until Polerentov is out of the country. We have to try and make sure that there is no way that he can ever suspect that Eliot played any part in his downfall. Do you understand what I'm trying to say? If there is any possibility that anyone could draw a link between the doctor's downfall and Polerentov's, it will come back to Eliot and Eliot will never be safe anywhere in the world."

"I just . . . I just don't want him to ever be able to hurt anyone again. I don't want him to be able to do what he did to Eliot to anyone else."

Nathan nodded, "I understand and I agree. In the meantime, until we can actually do something, we'll watch him and try to make sure he does nothing to hurt anyone else. I've asked Hardison to set safeguards in place to keep a close check on him. We need to keep _our_ Eliot safe, that has to be our priority, not because of me and him but because he's Eliot and he's our family, our friend. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand that," she replied quietly. "He deserves to have us look out for him now. He looks out for us, you know, he still looks out for us even though he's been ill."

"He will always look out for you, Parker," Nathan reassured.

* * *

Even now after all this time, Nathan found it hard to get to the bottom of Eliot's thoughts. For while Parker was used to not saying anything, not really having anyone to say anything to, she was unpracticed in staying silent against continued questioning and persistent care and so would abruptly cave before too long had passed. In contrast, Eliot would deflect, distract and constantly turn things round until half the time Nathan didn't know what information he had actually started out trying to get.

Parker was the first deflection: he was definitely worried about Parker. It took days of constant digging before Nathan finally got him to admit that the worry was more than Parker's past or Parker's loneliness or Parker's memories as he claimed, but was a fear that he might actually let her down himself, that if he got hurt he wouldn't be able to withstand the urge to take Vicodin.

Less than two days later, Nathan had him in a doctor's surgery, waiting to see a doctor that Nathan was sure was trustworthy for a thorough medical and the chance to talk about his concerns post-addiction. The man had been a friend, time and distance, family and commitments had stopped them being in regular contact, but it would never stop him knowing that this was a man who could be trusted to look after Eliot.

Then came yet another distraction. "You could come in with me," Eliot's voice was calm, light. Too light and airy in fact as Nathan looked at him askance, frown already in place. "We've got no secrets between us." That might have been true, maybe Nathan wasn't entirely convinced . . . but something in Nathan told him that wasn't why Eliot was suggesting he went in there with him at all.

Something wasn't right, but Nathan wasn't quite sure what exactly, so instead he said, "Really? You want me in there when you have . . ." He thought wildly for a moment then said, "Your prostate exam?" grasping at straws.

"My what?"

"Prostate exam. You know where your prostate . . ." Nathan had no idea whether the doctor would be checking anything of the sort, but, knowing what Eliot was like, that wouldn't be something he wanted doing with anyone extra in the room, even Nathan, who was plenty familiar with his prostate. Much to Nathan's delight normally, Eliot was a surprisingly modest man, he still blushed if they were anywhere but home behind a locked door when he suggested that they have sex later, let alone if he initiated anything. Nathan loved him for it, that despite his charm and his bad boy image, in some ways he was shy and almost innocent.

"Yes, I know goddamned well where my prostate is and it's fine. Ain't no need to be checking that!" Eliot grouched. At the point that Eliot had got up to leave, only then had Nathan realized what the real problem was; Eliot was afraid that he still had no idea what _was_ supposed to go on behind the doctor's closed door, that he might be misled again.

"Fuck that!" he muttered to himself, grabbing hold of Eliot before he could vanish through the exit. "Sit down!" He was angry more at himself than Eliot, but it came out in an unexpected gruffness as he spoke and Eliot wavered. "Sit down, please," he said deliberately calmer, thankful that as he'd got the last appointment of the day, the surgery waiting room was empty but for them. "I'll be honest with you, I have no idea whether he needs to do a prostate check, okay? He might, he might not, I don't know. But what I do know is you leaving has nothing to do with that." Eliot's expression hardened into a defensive glare but Nathan pressed on, "What I can tell you is that you can trust this man. You can ask him anything you need to . . . so if he says he wants to do a test, you can ask him what's involved, what he's looking for, what's right and what's not, what you should feel while he's doing it. You can tell him anything that is a concern. There don't have to be secrets between you and him . . ." Eliot raised his eyebrow in suspicion. "You can tell him about us if you want to. You can tell him you've served overseas . . . secret service in war zones . . . He won't ask for details of where or what you were doing, but he may ask for information about injuries you sustained. Is there anything that you aren't sure about telling him?"

Suddenly it was as if a flood barrier had broken and Nathan could see into his soul when Eliot quietly said, "I was tortured."

He pulled Eliot closer, murmuring, "I know." He held him quietly for a few minutes before adding, "You can tell him that too, he'll understand, it won't be a problem."

"What do I say about . . . about Polerentov's Doctor?"

"Whatever you want. You could tell him if you want or you could leave it for now and we'll follow it up once Polerentov's gone or . . ."

Eliot stopped him. "But the Vicodin . . . the amount I was taking . . . I have to tell him right and so he's gonna think I stole them and . . . and I didn't!"

"Then you tell him as much as you are comfortable with, the choice is yours. Tell him everything but his name if you want! Eliot, you can make these choices again, just like you used to. I know that doctor screwed you over, but there was a bigger game at stake, you didn't _just _fall for it, you were played big time. I know you're going to be fine and if you're not sure, say no, say nothing and hell, we can talk later and you can make a decision then."

The door to the office opened and a woman left with a smile and a cheery goodbye to the man inside. Nathan felt as Eliot tensed again beside him and smiled wryly at him, showing him all the sympathy he could, but no way out.

A few moments later the door opened again and the doctor appeared with a smile and a nodded greeting for Nathan, "Nate," before he turned his full attention to Eliot, "Mr Spencer? Hey, it's good to meet you. You ready to come on in?" Eliot stood and walked in without another word.

* * *

The wait for Eliot's return was almost interminable. Nathan was tempted to bite his nails to the quick, pace a long hole in the waiting room carpet and maybe just for good measure punch a hole in the wall.

When the door finally opened and Eliot reappeared looking far more relaxed than he'd gone in, Nathan let out a huge sigh of relief. The doctor was close behind him, smiling and laughing at something Eliot had said before the door opened. "See I told you he'd be wearing a hole in my carpet," he laughed, "Nathan Ford always was a worrier when it came to people important to him! Now, Eliot, you remember what I said. Call in a week for the results or make an appointment and come in for a chat if you prefer to do it that way. The other stuff . . . if you want to talk more come in and we can go over the options. Have a think about it, don't just rule it out, it might help. In the meantime, go out, have a few drinks and relax, you have nothing to worry about long term healthwise as far as I can see. I wouldn't expect anything to come back out of line from those results. You know where I am, you call, make an appointment for anything. Take care now. Bye."

As they left the building, Nathan couldn't resist asking, "Was everything okay?"

Eliot nodded briefly, then seemed to stop and think for a moment before turning to Nathan, "Yeah, everything's fine. He couldn't see any long term problems, said I'm recovering from the Vicodin really well physically but that it might help to talk to someone about it. He said there were psychologists and counselors that . . . who deal just with people who've served overseas . . . He said there was no pressure to see someone, but that if I ever wanted it, not necessarily now but ever . . . I told him about the nightmares . . ."

He bumped slightly against Nathan's side and Nathan lifted his arm to slip it round his shoulders, murmuring, "I'm glad," into his hair and feeling as Eliot edged closer in, his own arm slipping round Nathan's waist. It was only a few yards to the car before they broke apart again, separating to climb into their own seats.

* * *

_**Author's Note : **__One more chapter (with epilogue combined) to go and hopefully I'll get them up tomorrow. Hope people are still enjoying the story. As ever constructive feedback is appreciated. x_


	12. Chapter 12 and Epilogue

_**Chapter 12**_

Piece by piece, Nathan watched as things fell back into place: Eliot's health, his fitness, his place in the team, and importantly, his trust in the team and theirs in him. In truth the trust seemed greater now, the team much closer. Parker fitted more, Eliot fitted more. The others seemed able to accept their eccentricities, which in turn served to make them both behave less eccentrically in turn.

Instead of behaving strangely when she was uncomfortable or out of her depth, offhand, distant or even crazy, Parker would now move closer to Eliot as if confident that he'd look out for her, make sure no one took advantage of her. Similarly, rather than being gruff and obnoxious, Eliot would actually admit he wasn't sure about an idea, he needed more information or to talk about it further before he was convinced, as if it was alright now to admit he wasn't invincible.

His collapse had made the rest of the team reconsider the violence and brute force they expected him to use on jobs; at first it had been purely through necessity, but as time went on it became ingrained. Sophie and Hardison both accepted that there had to be a limit on their physical expectation of Eliot, and so if one job was physical, the next was quiet and there was no blasé disregard for Eliot's opinion any longer, instead there was caution.

And at home, Nathan was content and in love in a way he'd never expected to find again after his son had died. Life with Eliot was completely different to anything he'd had before and so it was easier to accept the happiness that came with it. Eliot wasn't ever replacing anything, trying to be something or someone that had gone before, Eliot was Eliot and as such he made Nathan's life better.

* * *

Eventually, the investigations into Polerentov and Aleksashkin petered out, the leads dried up and the trails ran to a close and so they moved forward again.

The waiting was hard, when there was nothing more they could do. Hardison and Eliot had worked long hours ensuring that the unnoticed tweaks and added searches continued to aid Walker's teams efforts until every possible avenue had been exhausted. Now they had to sit back and wait for due process to run its course.

It was months before the first full court appearances of the two men. They were high profile cases, masses of media swarmed the court buildings and it had taken a lot of maneuvering to find a way to bug the court rooms that wouldn't be detected by the high security in place. Hardison had been determined to create both a video and audio feed that would not be detected by the high level search teams and in the end he'd done it and Parker had managed to slip the devices in to all the court rooms and private rooms in the building to make sure that there was no way they wouldn't know everything that was happening.

They gathered together when Polerentov was first brought before the court to watch the feed and hear together the long list of crimes he had committed while in the United States was read out. Eliot had been in the centre of the team, the fingers of one hand entwined with Nathan's, while his other arm was draped over Parker who had curled into his side.

Close, Nathan realized, they were all so close now. Sophie hovered at his shoulder and Hardison had edged himself almost to the point of touching Parker. This was the good thing to come out of it all. He knew the others couldn't fail now to have noticed the bags below Eliot's eyes or probably his own. Eliot's nightmares were back as was to be expected but all he could hope for was that this would bring the needed reprieve quickly.

* * *

The list of crimes was long as they listened and the defense offered little by way of protest. When the judge announced that there had also been a call for extradition for Polerentov to face sentencing for crimes committed overseas and in time of war, the defense lawyer fell silent. Mikhail Polerentov attempted to object but the lawyer silenced him quickly. The judge finished what he was saying and the defence lawyer stood and asked that his client face judgement for the crimes he stood charged of in the US before the extradition claim was given consideration. Polerentov looked furious.

Moments later, the judge said he would give it consideration and the session would resume in thirty minutes. Hardison flicked from the court room feed to the one in the room where Mikhail Polerentov was now screaming ferociously at his lawyer. The lawyer stood silently and took the abuse until finally Polerentov stopped.

The lawyer cleared his throat then said, "You want them to extradite you and face the war crime charges? The sentencing you'll get there? You want to wind up in some dead end jail with nothing but cockroaches and bastards for company? That's fine, we can do that. I'll tell the judge you want to go for that option."

Polerentov glared and almost launched himself at the lawyer, snarling, "I'm paying you to get me off! Not send me to those dogs!"

"You can't pay me enough to get you off these charges. I can defend you here in the U.S., I can get you to face sentencing for your crimes here and try to do it that you serve time here in the U.S. but I can't get you off. There's too much evidence, too many crimes. You brought this on yourself and now the only choice we have is to try and go for serving the sentence here, before they drag you off to face the overseas charges. You saw the prison they put your father in, believe me, if you face trial for your crimes over there, yours will be worse. What do you want to do?"

* * *

Eliot's fingers clenched inside Nathan's grip, his face was a mask that could barely conceal the torment listening to the possibilities that the lawyer was laying out before Mikhail Polerentov.

* * *

"Fine! We'll go with this for now, but I want you to get me a meeting with Karbonenko, face to face. You tell the fucking judge that I'm cooperating and in exchange I want to meet with Karbonenko, not that the judge needs to know who, just freedom of access to visitors or some shit like that. I don't care what you do, you fix it! He's still free, not been arrested, right? So that's what you're going to do, you got that?"

* * *

Eliot's reaction wasn't what anyone expected. "No!" he gasped, hoarsely, "No! No! He . . . he can't do that!" He stood up abruptly, staggering to the door blindly with Nathan after him. Out in the corridor, he seemed momentarily lost, until Nathan caught up with him, pulling him into an embrace that seemed to block the world out and give him the time to deal with whatever had distressed him so intensely.

Nathan said nothing until he felt Eliot calm, felt as Eliot's fingers fisted into his shirt, pulling him closer. A few deep breaths later and Eliot tried to push himself away from Nathan, turning to walk away, but Nathan had decided that he wasn't letting go any time soon.

"Who is he, Eliot? Who is Karbonenko?" He saw the violent shudder that passed through Eliot at the question and waited silently.

Eliot stilled, not making any attempt to hide his expression of hurt and pain as he began to speak. "I didn't know he was here, didn't know he was still alive. . . I thought . . . I thought he was dead . . . Karbonenko . . . is . . ." He huffed a breath of air, a small sardonic puff of bitter laughter, "Violent. He could make a visit from Tomás de Torquemada feel like a walk in the park." He shuddered again, "He's . . . he was Mikhail's father's munitions expert though and . . . and . . . when Mikhail's father was first captured, he . . . umm, he blew up half the prison they were holding him in, killing inmates, guards, soldiers, anyone who was in the way. He stormed in with his . . . his _men_ and they hacked their way through survivors without a care: it didn't matter which side they were on, they were going to kill them regardless to get to Polerentov, even their own men."

Eliot's hands tightened again in Nathan's shirt and Nathan pulled him closer offering him the only thing he could by way of reassurance and waited, knowing there was more that Eliot hadn't said yet, maybe couldn't.

Eliot seemed to drag in a breath before he added, "If Mikhail wants Karbonenko, he's planning an escape. I – I have to do something, I have to stop him!"

"_**We **_will, Eliot. _**We **_will stop him. We'll get the information to Walker, we'll make sure it's dealt with."

* * *

In the end, it seemed that all it would take would be an anonymous text message, a simple text message to Arnold Walker. And so, with the words, "Mikhail wants a meeting with Karbonenko. Lawyer arranging," staring at him from the screen, Arnold Walker reactivated his teams in the search for people involved with Polerentov, silently wondering how they'd managed to miss him in the massive round ups they'd already done.

Eliot was poring over the information feeds that were going in and out of Arnold Walker's office, anxious as for the next two days nothing showed up about Karbonenko. Hardison had also tapped into the lawyer's office although Hardison hadn't found anything useful in those feeds, unable to find the connection they needed. At the end of the second day, Eliot had Hardison show him how to go through all the outgoing phone calls from the lawyer since Mikhail had made the demand and how to send an untraceable text message.

As the others left, he refused to join Nathan, not allowing him to stay with him either as he settled in to focus on the task he had set himself. In the quiet of the office, he clicked to listen to the first phone call. The voices started up and he knew it wasn't the one he wanted, moved the mouse to click to forward to the next conversation.

He'd been there for an hour and had made notes on a piece of paper beside him as he began to recognize names and codes, finding it amazing that after all this time, Mikhail's organization still used the same codes his father had. He persisted on for another three hours when he'd managed to piece enough together to make sense and give a trail for someone to follow. He looked down at his notes and wondered how he could condense the information sufficiently to send in a text message. It wasn't going to work.

He looked at his watch, it was late . . . but he needed this, needed to get this done for it all to be over. He picked up his cellphone and flicked down the numbers until he found the one he needed and pressed call. It rang a few times before a sleepy voice answered.

"Hardison, I – I need your help," he said quietly. "Please. . ."

He heard as the younger man obviously pulled himself up and began to sound a little more alert, "Yeah, man. Tell me, what do you need?"

Eliot could almost have cried with relief at his reaction, "Can you . . . can you come to the office? I've got too much information for a text message, I have to get it to Arnold. I have to do this, Alec."

"I'm on my way. Give me about half an hour and I'll be with you."

The lack of question, the immediate agreement all gave Eliot strength as he said, "I'll keep working till you get here, in case . . . in case there's anything else. I'll see you when you get here." He set the phone back down on his desk and turned his attention back to the computer before him.

* * *

Hardison was stunned by the amount of information Eliot had collated from a relatively small number of calls. He was able to isolate the calls that had been significant; thankful that Eliot had noted down which calls they were and was able to combine all of the information with sound files of those calls before hacking into Walker's system and dumping them on his computer so that when he turned it on next the information would be right there in front of him.

He then set up a secure line and handed the phone to Eliot, "It's gonna go through to Walker. You tell him he needs to go to his office and check the computer the information he needs is there. The line is secure, he's not going to trace it here but will he recognize your voice?"

Eliot shrugged, "Don't know. It's been a few years but . . . maybe. . ."

"Do you want me to disguise your voice or will knowing it's you make him act quicker? Will he come after you?"

"He – he knows I don't want back in."

Hardison regarded him cautiously not sure whether that really answered the question he'd asked, deciding to ask again, "Do you want me to disguise your voice, Eliot?" He saw the white knuckled grip of Eliot's fingers on the edge of the desk and took that as his answer when there was still no word. "Okay, give me one more minute and it'll be ready to go," he added clicking a few more buttons before saying, "Right, we're ready to go. You okay to do this now?"

Eliot nodded and Hardison set the call to ring. A bleary voice answered and Eliot spoke, "Walker. . . The information you need is on your office computer. Karbonenko has to be stopped. You must act now!" He didn't wait for a reaction just nodded at Hardison who disconnected the call.

The two men sat in silence and waited, watching the download feed from Walker's computer. It took about forty minutes before they saw the machine being started up and someone flicking through the information and Hardison saw as the exhaustion began to really show in his companion. "Okay, dude, it's time for us to go. You've done all you can. I'm taking you home."

"I've got my bike, I'll go later, you can go now," Eliot said quietly.

"No way, dude. Firstly, you've done all you can. You have to trust that Arnold Walker will act on it. Secondly, you're exhausted, man and I'm not leaving you here or to drive home alone. I'll drop you home and you can come back with Nathan later."

"I need to . . ."

Hardison didn't let him finish, cutting him off with the words, "You know I can override this computer, _all_ the computers and I can stop you getting any more information until tomorrow anyway. I'll do it if I have to. Hell, I'll leave you sat here in the dark, I can override everything! You are not in a fit state to drive and I am not going to be responsible for you being in an accident so you sit here in the dark with nothing to do or you're coming with me now." He picked up Eliot's keys and began to walk to the door, pausing at the door giving Eliot the chance to follow.

* * *

By the time, Eliot arrived at the office at ten the following morning with Nathan, Hardison had the information they needed to set his mind at rest. Karbonenko was already in custody. As he said the words, he saw as Eliot's shoulders dropped, relief flooding through him.

"There's something else you might want to see . . ."

They moved through to the conference room to see the lawyer in the private room at the courtroom, waiting for Mikhail Polerentov. A few minutes later the door opened and Polerentov was brought in, chained and cuffed and pushed forward to sit in a chair. The guards then left the room, leaving him chained but alone with the lawyer.

* * *

"Well?" Polerentov said. "When?"

"He's been arrested," the lawyer said. "They took him last night, this morning . . . early hours . . . You're not getting out of this. So . . . you want to face the charges here, try for serving the sentence here ahead of being extradited or . . ."

"You're going to pay for this fuck up!" Polerentov snarled.

The lawyer shrugged, "Mikhail, you have no one left but me . . . You overstep the mark now and I walk out that door and you can find yourself a new lawyer."

* * *

The team sat for hours together watching as the scene in the court room played out before them waiting and watching, amazed as the judge allowed the lawyer to present his case for the evidence to be heard in the court before extradition. Ultimately the plea fell on deaf ears and the judge stated that extradition procedures were to be started immediately.

* * *

Aleksashkin made no attempts to deflect from his own extradition procedures, no attempt to escape. Nathan silently worried that it meant he already had something in place, but didn't want to voice his concern in front of Eliot who seemed unconcerned.

He was surprised when in a relatively short time, Aleksashkin was being shipped out of the country and back to Europe. He waited with anxiety gnawing in his stomach until the court case began, waited with everything churning inside until the evidence was heard, the sentence was pronounced and Aleksashkin was locked up for good and even then he still wondered why he'd put up no defence, but was grateful for that small mercy in the torment of Eliot.

Polerentov fought the whole way by contrast, trying every delaying tactic possible but ultimately months after Aleksashkin was imprisoned, Polerentov joined him. Nathan finally felt the weight leave him, hoped that now he and Eliot could finally move on, begin to build their own life without the persistent weight of those men over them.

* * *

It surprised Nathan the night he woke to find Eliot sitting staring out of the window, a blanket pulled round his shoulders although he still shivered intermittently from the chill in the air. Dragging the quilt from the bed with him, he perched on the arm of the chair, casting the quilt over them both and slipping an arm round Eliot, placing a kiss on his sleep-mussed hair. "You want to talk?" he murmured quietly.

"You never asked. You never asked me why Aleksashkin didn't fight any of the charges."

"I didn't. I wasn't sure you wanted me to talk about it, I didn't want to raise any unnecessary doubts."

Eliot nodded, "Yeah, I get that, but . . . but you were worried." He settled himself more comfortably against Nathan. "Aleksashkin knew neither of them stood a chance, he knew the best thing he could do was to get there first, get himself settled into the prison they're going to, make sure his own security there was guaranteed, his own place in the food chain as it were, make sure he's above Mikhail." He sighed, "He'll make sure that Mikhail Polerentov's life is hell. I can't ask for more than that anymore."

They sat looking out together in silence, watching the lights of the city below them as a sense of things being at an end began to settle over them. Nathan was relieved and for the first time he began to see a future in which this didn't hang over them so heavily. He could only hope that Eliot would find the same peace.

* * *

_Epilogue_

Eliot parked up his bike and slowly walked up to the Rose City Cemetery entrance gates. Minutes later he was strolling alone between the gravestones, taking in the peaceful, calming atmosphere. He found an unobtrusive spot and leant back against a tree, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing, allowing his mind to wander through the thoughts and emotions that had been churning inside for weeks.

He tried to still the turmoil, filter it and let it go. Here amongst these dead, resting peacefully, he wanted to put his own ghosts to rest. Mikhail Polerentov would never see the light of day as a free man again. Eliot's stomach clenched, his hand fisted at his side. He needed to accept that, accept it as the best thing that could ever happen. There was no punishment that fitted the crimes Polerentov had committed, no punishment that was legally available. It wasn't like even a death sentence would have been justice, no punishment on earth could bring back the lives he had taken, the families he had destroyed. Nathan had said that it was people like Polerentov that made one wish not for an understanding God but for a vengeful one.

Aleksashkin's sentence had been almost as severe. He was still unlikely to be released before his death, but if he was he would be an old man. In the ensuing months, there had been trial after trial of the two men's 'associates' and 'colleagues'. The team tracked as one by one they were sent to prison with varying charges and subsequent sentences.

In the ensuing furore, it would have been easy to miss the small far less noticeable case of an insignificant US doctor, but Parker had seen it, tracked it and not said a word until the verdict was returned. It turned out that Eliot had not been the only victim; the doctor who had coerced him into taking the Vicodin had in fact, been on the payroll of Polerentov for long enough to have earnt himself plenty of interest from the authorities. He was found guilty of forging prescriptions, deliberately misdiagnosing and mistreating patients for monetary gain amongst other charges. Parker had reappeared in the office with popcorn and soda to celebrate on a day when things had been quiet. No one had been sure what she was celebrating until she had everyone gathered in the conference room and had shown them the details of the doctor's court case. They had all been overjoyed. Eliot would admit that the occasion had even eased his own heart a little, not so much for himself as for the closure it seemed to give Parker. He'd held her close as she'd flung her arms round him in excitement, saying all the things he knew she needed to hear. "I didn't say anything," she had murmured close to his ears. "I didn't say anything not until I was sure he was going to prison. I knew it would hurt if they let him go, and – and I didn't want you to be hurt."

Eliot was still choked up by the emotion her words generated in him. At the time it had been difficult to hold it together, maintain his appearance. It wasn't about the doctor really, it had been that she had wanted to protect him. Family . . . family couldn't be closer, there was nothing that he wouldn't do for these people now. To find that for some of them, he was important too, was something that left him reeling.

Eliot pushed off the tree and wandered deeper into the cemetery, seeking a peace he wasn't sure he'd ever find. He prayed silently, not to God, but to all the people he'd seen die, all of those people he'd been unable to save, asking them to forgive him, asking them to rest in peace, like he imagined the people in this cemetery were.

He'd never go back, he could never go to see if there were proper burials for the people he'd seen killed, if there were places for the survivors to pay their respects. He was certain he was not the only person who lived regretting that he couldn't save more people.

What sign could a bunch of dead people give him that they knew he'd done all he could, that he could be forgiven for not being able to save them all? He rubbed at his eyes, denying the emotions that wanted to flood out. He had to let this all go, move on with his life. There were more battles to fight, more wrongs to be set right in the world. He'd quit running from the past, hiding in more and more reckless jobs for higher and higher pay. For the first time since those days, he was working for justice, working to be someone good, someone worth something. He was working to earn a place in the world. He was trying to accept that he didn't know if he'd ever reach his goal, but it was something to give him a purpose, a reason for living.

He looked down at his watch, amazed to see how much time had passed. He turned his footsteps back towards the parking lot. This visit hadn't brought him any more answers than he'd had when he left the office. He looked up at the gate ahead as he approached, surprised to see a group of people standing there waiting. As he got closer, he recognized his team-mates and he stopped in surprise, not sure why they would be there, why they had come. Parker stepped away from the others, moving towards him.

He stood waiting, unsure. He needed a clue why they'd come, what they wanted of him. His fists clenched nervously at his side as he tried to work it all out. Parker reached him, slipped in against his side, her arm snaking round his waist as she rested her head on his shoulder and asked, "Are you alright? We've been worried about you."

"Sure," he replied, voice hoarse with barely held back emotion. "I just hoped . . . I wanted a second chance, forgiveness for the past. I wanted a sign that if not now, maybe one day I could be forgiven."

He hadn't noticed Hardison's approach until the younger man nudged shoulders. "You don't need forgiveness, dude. You never did anything wrong . . . you did everything you could, always. I can't believe that you could think anything different."

"People died," Eliot murmured with a shiver.

"Still didn't make it your fault, dude," Hardison insisted as Sophie began walking alongside him as he let his arm drop over her shoulders and pulling her closer.

"Eliot," Sophie began. "You have gained as much justice as this world allows for those people and their families. You have everything to be proud of. Look around you, the ghosts _are_ telling you to move on, telling you it's time."

Nathan stepped forward, stopping in front of the man who meant so much to him. "Eliot, what sign do you want to let you know it's time to let the past go? We understand you will always have those memories but you mustn't let them rule you any longer. We can't stand by and watch you tear yourself apart. Even if you can't see it, we know, you deserve so much more than you allow yourself."

Eliot nodded. "It's not . . . You're all here . . . I – I don't know what to say." His eyes roamed from one of his colleagues to another, disbelief that they had come here just for him. Maybe Sophie was right, maybe _they _were the sign that the spirits were telling him to move on. He was embarrassed that the rest of the team had all dragged themselves away from their lives, their work, just for him. He felt the awkwardness prickle at him but rather than give into it, he tried to make light of it, "So is this an intervention or something?"

"If that's what it will take, dude? We can do intervention," came Hardison's half laughed retort. "Although even saying that, you're doing pretty well on the Vicodin front. I'm impressed but you're not expecting like one of those ex-alcoholic one year sober chips, are you?"

"I've not made a year yet," Eliot added quietly, and Hardison wished for a moment that he'd not said anything.

Parker laughed and pinched him, saying brightly, "You're going to though. I _know_ these things and you're going to make it to forever!" Eliot let himself smile and relax at her words as the others agreed with her. It was time to move on, these people were making sure of that, they were here for him, his family.

"There is one thing we still need to do," Sophie said. "And really it falls to you to decide, Eliot. There is still the money from Beriznity. What do you want us to do with it?"

Eliot looked round in surprise. He'd not given the money a thought from the time they'd taken it. As far as he was concerned it was never important. "I - I want to give my share to a project; it's a charity . . . Doctors Without Borders have an outreach program out in the mountains where Aleksashskin and Polerentov . . ."

"All of it, Eliot. We want it all to go there if that's what you think best. It isn't our money, it's theirs."

The team left the cemetery together and Eliot saw Hardison's truck parked next to his own motorbike. Nathan walked across to the back door of the truck, opened the door and leant in, and then stepped back with an extra helmet in his hand.

He wished his colleagues a goodbye before moving over to where Eliot was standing beside his bike unsure. He leant across for a kiss, before pulling on the helmet and waiting .

Eliot smiled, letting a sense of warmth and belonging flood through him as he waved at the retreating figures of Parker, Sophie and Hardison, before looking back at Nathan. "This could all be something good." Nathan nodded and waited for him to say something more, "I could have this, be part of this."

"You can, Eliot. You are!" Nathan affirmed, relishing the look in Eliot's eyes of an unexpected gift.

Eliot pulled on his own helmet, mounting his bike and waiting for Nathan's arms to fit snug round his waist. Before starting the engine, he let his hands drop to Nathan's and gave them a squeeze, felt as Nathan squeezed back, then fired up the engine, lifted his feet and set off for a more optimistic future than he had ever believed he could have.

* * *

**_Author's Notes:_** Well, that's it. THE END!!! I hope you enjoyed it, thank you for reading and to those people who commented even bigger thanks with a hug and cookie thrown in!


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